


Bittersweet Symphony

by Saetha



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (additional characters to be added), AU, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baby Kíli, Cats, Contract Killers, Disability, Fluff, M/M, Mafia AU, PTSD, Porn, Scars, Violence, Weddings, bodyguard Dwalin, contract killer Dori, dark humour, idek, makeout sessions in tuxedos, nonbinary Vili, paraplegic Thorin, rough sex (implied), single dad Dwalin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of different stories in a variety of alternative Dworin universes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Wedding [blind Dwalin]

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! My wonderful muse and me have come up with a large number of different AUs by now and we thought it would be time to share some of the stories with you because there will likely never be large, multi-chapter works for them. 
> 
> Let's start off with a genuinely happy story for once! Despite all their problems, this is likely the happiest AU that we have. Dwalin is a blind army veteran, Thorin a dog trainer with the police in London, whose skin is scarred on the left side of his body from almost dying in a fire over a decade ago. Dwalin has a labrador guide dog named Bucky, Thorin a German Shepherd named Vee (from 'Steve'). It's also the only universe where they ever get married - they are generally a lot softer in this verse due to their circumstances (TSITS Dworin would never hold hands in public for example I think) :').
> 
> Apart from mentions of PTSD there are no warning for this story. It's very cute hihi.

Thorin looked at the mirror in front of him, taking a deep breath. The man who was staring back was almost a stranger, but not quite. The network of scars on his cheek and throat were still there, as were the faint strands of gray in his hair and the wideness of his shoulders, the strong line of his nose.

The eyes, however, that looked back at him were different. No longer the flickering gaze of a man haunted by memories and pain, but the clear blue of someone who had found a spark of happiness and decided to hold on to it with all of his might. It had been three days since Thorin had last woken up in the middle of the night, his throat raw and parched and a scream on his lips, the memory of fire and burning skin far too vivid in his mind. He knew it would never fully disappear, that not even Dwalin would be able to completely banish the evens of the past from his mind, just like Thorin himself would ever be able to heal all of Dwalin's mental and physical wounds.

It still felt strange, thinking of the man he had spent the past five years living with as his soon-to-be husband. It was a word Thorin had never thought he would use, at least not in relation to himself. And yet here he stood, ready to link his life so tightly to Dwalin's like he had never dared to do with anyone else before, not even his own siblings.

Thorin carefully checked his appearance over, his own heartbeat echoing loudly in the strange calm that was filling his mind. Suit, cuff links, bow tie, shoes - everything was in place. He lifted his hand to his hair, but stopped an inch short of touching it when his sister's voice cut through the air.

"Stop fiddling with your hair." Dís walked up behind him and lightly touched his hand. "It's perfect the way it is."

She was right, of course, even if Thorin would never have admitted to it. He and the word 'perfect' never went together in his opinion, even if Dwalin and now his sister insisted otherwise. Suddenly nervousness flooded his body again and he took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It was ridiculous that he should be so jittery but he couldn't help it.

With a little smile at his sister and brother he moved towards the door to see how far Dwalin had come in his preparations. His partner had made a big secret out of what he was going to wear, refusing to share even a single detail with Thorin. Balin was obviously in on the plan and had been as secretive, proving remarkably resistant to Thorin's and even Frerin's bribes.

Frerin grinned as he held the door open for Thorin to walk through and down the corridor to Dwalin's room. He gave his brother a pat on the back in passing and whispered "Don't collapse on me, dear brother. You'd embarrass the family three generations back."

Thorin only rolled his eyes in response and cuffed Frerin lightly on the head. He couldn't deny, however, that his brother's teasing had succeeded in calming him down a little. He breathed in deeply one more time and then knocked on the door leading to the room where Dwalin was getting dressed, presumably whilst being showered with well-meant advice from his brother.

"Yeah?" It was Dwalin's voice, deep and reassuring as always.

"How is it going?" Thorin hoped fervently that his voice didn't betray his nervousness.

"We're basically done. You can come in if you want."

Thorin did as he was told - and stopped dead in his tracks after opening the door.

Of course he had known Dwalin was Scottish, his accent alone being a dead giveaway. Apparently, however, Thorin's brain had been unable to put two and two together and as such Dwalin's outfit came as a complete surprise for him. He wore the kilt as if he had been born to do it, although, in a way Thorin supposed he had been. He looked every inch a Highlander and despite the apparent anachronism, his suit jacket went well with the patterned fabric around his legs.

"Thorin?" Dwalin had turned in the direction where he had heard him enter. Bucky was on the floor not far from him and acknowledged Thorin's presence with a quiet huff and the thump of his tail on the carpet.

"I think your future husband has momentarily been rendered speechless." Balin remarked with an amused smile as he nodded in Thorin's direction.

Thorin, in the meanwhile, was still unable to do anything but stand there and stare. It took him a visible effort to put himself together again.

"You look great." he said, his voice raspy and a shade deeper than usual in what was likely the understatement of the century.

"So I take it you like it then?" Dwalin's grin was wide and almost mischievous. Either he was truly much more at ease than Thorin or simply better at hiding it.

Thorin laughed quietly. 'Like' wasn't exactly the right word.

"Yes. A lot." he replied with a smile which he knew Dwalin could hear in his words. Dwalin relaxed slightly and Thorin noted with a tinge of amusement that he had apparently been more nervous about Thorin's reaction than he had been willing to admit.

He came closer, Balin quietly stepping away to give them a little space. Dwalin's shades were on the table next to them and so Thorin had once again the opportunity to look into Dwalin's eyes as he lightly touched him on the arm to signal him that he had entered his personal space. The blindness had made them unfocused, but it had not taken away their inherent beauty, the swirling colours of grey making Thorin feel warm and safe at once. The prominent scar running across half of Dwalin's face did nothing to deter that impression. Thorin had thought him beautiful from the moment he had first seen him, sitting on a park bench and enjoying the sunshine with Bucky at his feet.

Dwalin reached up hesitantly with his hand.

"Can I?" he asked and Thorin smiled, remembering the very first time Dwalin had requested to touch him and see him in his own way.

"Of course." Thorin whispered and watched as Dwalin's fingers were gliding over the soft fabric of his suit, feeling the cuff link on his wrist, the shape of the small bow tie at his throat. Thorin's scars were smooth and cool under Dwalin's touch and Dwalin smiled when his fingers were gliding over them. To him Thorin's scars weren't only a mark of pain and loss, but one of survival, that of a fighter. He loved them as much as he loved everything else about him.

Dwalin's hand stilled momentarily when it brushed over his cheek towards his ear and didn't find the expected tickle of hair on his skin. Thorin only put his hair back in the private confines of their home, never in public, even on the hottest of summer days. They had never been a need to talk about why - it was clear that he did it to hide the scars from those around him. Thorin had once told him that he hated being stared at more than anything.

Now his hair was bound back, the waving strands tamed and braided into elaborate little braids that ran along the side of his head and ending bound together at the back of his head. Dwalin smiled, not only at what he knew must have been a lot of work and surely looked beautiful but also at the meaning behind the gesture. For Thorin to wear his hair tied back whilst they stepped out into the world together was the biggest gift of trust and love he could have offered.

Dwalin could feel Thorin smile back beneath the touch of his fingers, the familiar dimples that he loved so much appearing around his mouth. He pulled him closer into a soft kiss - despite the amount they talked, it was still easier for them to express their feeling in touches and small gestures. When their lips parted again, Thorin reached up to run his finger over the bare skin of Dwalin's head and down his cheek, caressing his beard.

"How's your head?" he asked softly.

"Better." Dwalin replied and it was the truth. The pounding ache that had kept him up all evening and most of the previous night had thankfully mostly subsided, only a small throbbing left centred somewhere behind his forehead. He rubbed the bridge of his nose slightly, smiling in Thorin's direction.

"I'll be fine." he added.

"Good." Thorin didn't question his judgement and Dwalin was immensely grateful for it. Experience had long taught him the amount of pain he could handle although some people didn't tend to believe it. Thorin kissed him again before Balin audibly cleared his throat, making them both turn into his direction.

"It's time." Dwalin's brother informed them.

"We'll be there in a moment." Thorin told him and Dwalin heard his brother make an agreeing sound before his footsteps left the room, their noise ended by the sound of a door closing. Dwalin hope he hadn't forgotten to take Dwalin's cane with him seeing as he wouldn't need it on the way down, but probably later in the day.

There was a shuffling next to him and then Thorin's hands were gripping the back of Dwalin's head, bringing his forehead forward until it was touching Thorin's. There were so many questions on both their tongues - _Are you sure? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with me? I don't deserve you_ , but none of them dared to utter even a single word of it, for fear that their courage would forsake them.

"Let's go." Thorin said softly, intertwining his fingers with Dwalin's after fixing his tie with a quick smile.

"Buck." Dwalin made a quiet sound and at his word, the guide dog was on his feet in a moment and came padding over to them. Bucky was an integral part of Dwalin's life and, after all, the reason he and Thorin had met in the first place - and as such, it had been a given from the beginning that he would be a part of the ceremony. Vee, the dog that Thorin had brought into their relationship was waiting outside with Dís' family.

Dwalin put out his hand to feel where the table was that he had left his shades on earlier. After a moment of searching, his fingers touched the smooth frame and he hesitated. With a deep, slightly trembling breath he withdrew his hand again, thinking of Thorin's scars so smooth under his fingers and his hair bound back for all the world to see. Maybe it was time he showed some courage as well. And so his shades remained on the table when they stepped outside, ready for the short five-minute walk into the park.

It had taken them a while to decide on the venue for their ceremony and the small celebration afterwards. In the end they had decided to take on the risk of the perilous English weather and hold the wedding outside, in a pavilion one of the many parks littered in and around London. They seemed to be lucky - it was a grey day, but at least the obligatory drizzle hadn't shown up yet and it was reasonably dry and warm.

They hadn't invited many guests - close family members and a few friends were the only ones they had truly wanted to share this moment with. All of their invited guests had come as Thorin could see now when they both walked towards the small white pavilion in the middle of the park. It was the same park that they had first met at, Vee taking an obvious interest in Bucky and Thorin just as much in Dwalin. Dwalin had never told him, but he had fallen in love with his voice and, even more so, his laughter, from the first moment on.

Dwalin's fingers were still firmly intertwined with Thorin's, Bucky guiding him on his right side and Thorin walking next to him on his left, squeezing his hand softly when they entered the small open building. Dwalin could feel the gazes on him as they walked along the rows towards the front, the sound of Elbow playing somewhere behind him. He smiled at the music; they had chosen it for a very good reason. Dwalin still remembered the moment at the concert when Thorin had suddenly blurted out the request to marry him. He hadn't comprehended the question at first, so lost in the music surrounding him that he thought he had heard it wrong. Then Thorin had repeated his clearly unplanned proposal and Dwalin didn't even have time to think before he already replied with a 'yes'.

Thorin evidently remembered the same moment, because Dwalin could hear him humming to the song under his breath and squeezing his fingers just that much more tightly. Bucky stopped and they came to a halt in front of the registrar. They had met the young woman earlier in the morning for the last preparations and Dwalin had immediately taken a liking to her rather deep, smooth voice. Thorin had found her sympathetic as well and it became clear that their trust wasn't unfounded when she gave a small speech now, preceding the ceremony. It was a good speech - not overbearing or pitying, but drawing attention to events both sad and happy of their past which had shaped them and made them into what they were now.

Both Dwalin and Thorin could feel their nervousness rise throughout her speech, instinctively moving closer together and holding on to each other's hands as if they were their only anchors in the world.

"Are you, Dwalin Fundinul, free, lawfully, to marry Thorin Oakenshield?" It took Dwalin a moment to fully comprehend that she had asked him and another moment to gather himself enough to speak.

"I am." His voice was raspy and cracking at the edges. He could feel Thorin shift slightly next to him when the registrar directed the same question at him.

"And are you, Thorin Oakenshield, free, lawfully, to marry Dwalin Fundinul?"

"I am." Thorin's voice didn't fare much better, although the trembling in it was barely noticeable for anyone except Dwalin.

They had rehearsed this moment more than once and yet it still felt to Dwalin like it was the first time he did it. He made a careful turn to his left Thorin was standing, feeling him make the same movement and grasping his other hand so they were now touching with both hands.

"I, Dwalin Fundinul, take you, Thorin Oakenshield, to be my wedded husband." He made it through the sentence without stumbling or tearing up, a feat that had needed his complete amount of self-control. Thorin took two tries before he managed to speak the words.

"I, Thorin Oakenshield, take you, Dwalin Fundinul, to be my wedded husband."

It was Dwalin's turn again now and he briefly let go of Thorin's hand to take out the ring from his pocket on the right. He had practised the movement long enough and so he found it almost without delay. They had written their promises separately and not revealed them to each other until now. With a careful motion, he felt for Thorin's left hand again, fingers running down slightly along his wrist over his palm, counting the fingers until he had found the right one and sliding the ring over it whilst he was speaking.

"I promise to love and respect you. I promise to help our love grow, to comfort and support you in times of hardship and always be there to listen. I promise to remain by your side whatever our lives may bring."

He lifted Thorin's hand to his lips, softly kissing the ring and the skin surrounding it. Dwalin could hear a faint sniffing sound behind him that sounded suspiciously like Frerin. Thorin took a moment to pull himself together after Dwalin's words and his voice was almost quiet when spoke, his words meant for Dwalin and Dwalin alone. His fingers were obviously trembling, but he managed to put the ring on Dwalin's finger nonetheless.

"I promise to respect and cherish you throughout the rest of our lives, to give you my love and friendship, support and comfort you without asking. I promise that you will never be alone again."

Dwalin could feel the wetness rise in his eyes when Thorin was speaking, trying to burn every single word and feeling into his mind. He still couldn't believe it was real, that it was truly happening. Sometimes he still woke up in the morning, frantically extending his hand to feel Thorin lie next to him because he was convinced that it had all been yet another dream his scarred mind had come up to torment him with.

They both barely heard the words of the registrar pronouncing them husband and husband, entirely too focused on the feeling of their intertwined fingers and the rings on their skin. When they were finally allowed to kiss, it was hard to say who was faster - lips met lips, bodies pressed together, fingers caressing each other's cheeks and necks whilst time very definitely defined the laws of physics for a moment and stopped. Cheers and clapping erupted around them but it all seemed to be far away. The only thing that was important was right in front of them, now forever bound together in loyalty and love.

The rest of the day seemed to pass like a dream - signing the Register, receiving the congratulations and well-wishes from friends and family alike (and not only Frerin's voice sounded suspiciously shaky throughout it) and moving back into the hotel where the wedding reception and later dinner was being held. Dwalin was unable to stop touching the ring on his finger - it had taken them a while to find the right ones, but in the end they had decided for simple silver with a small engraved pattern on it that felt comfortable and beautiful under Dwalin's finger tips.

Thorin's laughter could be heard more often than ever throughout the entire day and evening and every time its sound reached Dwalin's ears he felt something in his heart blossom with warmth. He longed to run his fingers over Thorin's face and body again and again, trace all his features, bask in the heat of his skin and taste the salt from its surface. They were dancing forehead to forehead that night, endlessly rehearsed steps slowly giving way to the simple joy of moving in a common rhythm no matter the pattern. Jeff Buckley was softly singing about lilac wine in the background, but the only thing Dwalin truly had ears for was Thorin.

They could barely be closer and he yet tried to shorten the distance between them even more, kissing Thorin again, softly whispering 'I love you' into his ear. Thorin's answer was almost lost amongst the noise of the crowd around them, but the touch of his fingers and smile against Dwalin's skin weren't.

"And I you."


	2. Kill me [Dark!MafiaAU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely feedback to the first story! I promise there will be more stories from this AU in the near future (it is one of our favourites after all as well) :3.
> 
> In the mean time, let's do a jump - from the happiest AU that we have to the darkest one we have. We actually have three different MafiaAUs, but in this one everything is particularly fucked up (apologies to those of you who don't like these kind of stories, you are very welcome to skip this one - there will be happier stuff soon I promise). Thorin is Mafia (and a very, very twisted, dark version of him) and Dwalin is a cop and their relationship isn't really a relationship (and if it were, it were more than unhealthy), although, might I add, always consensual in terms of sex. 
> 
> In line with that twist on them I also experimented with writing styles again, using a style I haven't really used in years. I hope it works. Feedback is always welcome :). 
> 
> **Warnings for this story:** character death, violence, blood, implied rough sex, emotionally unhealthy relationships

Walk, watch, walk.

The rhythm is the same, would lull you to sleep if it weren't for its reality. Watch and walk, hands on your gun, always looking for that flash of blue, the blink of silver in hair the colour of earth. 'The manhunt of the century' is what they will name it, a hunt whose outcome is clear from the beginning. They will call you a hero later, when it's over, but you know you aren't.

For now you are still walking through the empty streets, hunting for the man they call 'The Tiger.'

Thorin Oakenshield.

You taste his name on your tongue whilst you walk. Thorin. Whispered, shouted, moaned, burned into your soul, together with eyes of piercing blue carrying nothing but darkness.

You know where he is likely hiding - there is a street not far from here, a small alley branching out from it concealed behind an iron gate. But you have the key. You remember the letter, paper white and piercing in your eyes, your name written on it in a neat hand. A key falling out when you opened it and a card with an address in the same clear writing. You remember a kiss burning on your lips, teeth digging into you flesh, his body like an answer to all the dark prayers you wouldn't even want God to know about.

The key unlocks the gate and it remains open behind you.

"I knew you'd come."

Hoarse, deep, quiet. A voice that makes fire shoot through your body, rasps at your mind, leaves goose bumps on your skin and your insides in pieces. He is here.

Just as you knew he would be.

Just as he knew you would be.

The suit is tattered, his hair disheveled, but the look in his eyes still the same: cold fire, anger and a flash of desire. He is a beast that no one will ever tame, but somehow you managed to be his equal, down to the teeth ripping apart your flesh.

Your eyes follow the trail of blood on the ground, smudged drips of darkness left there by a wound on his arm. _Gunshot_ , your mind tells you dispassionately. _Not an artery. But enough loss of blood to make him slow. Catch him. Go._

You step forward, see that his only weapon is a knife. Your hand holding your own gun grows numb as you realise there's no way out, for neither of you. Both of you knew this would happen at one point. You think it couldn't come fast enough. You wish it had never come.

There is barely a foot between the two of each you when you finally come to a halt. Two men. The same height, one slightly broader in the shoulder. A dark suit and a police uniform. A bald head and thick hair, coming loose from the ponytail it has been in. Blue eyes and grey, gazes circling each other. Lips cold and hot, meeting in a sudden explosion of lust.

Thorin is like a thunderstorm - violent, uncontrollable and utterly all-encompassing. He demands everything and you give it willingly. His fingers paint bruises on your skin and your teeth scrape marks into his neck. His tongue traces where he has marked you, the old scars and the new and you stifle your moans in the flesh of his body. Your nails leave crisscrossing traces on his back under the suit and his knife leaves a cut on your nose and forehead. The taste of blood is in you both and your hunger is endless. _Mine, mine, mine_ , you both scream. _Hit me. Fuck me. Make me forget who I am._ You are two animals fighting, you are two humans loving, you are two bodies battling, you are two souls merging.

You know you cannot save him. Nobody can, no matter what novels might tell you. The Tiger cannot be tamed. The darkness will always be a part of him like the blood splattered on you, like his taste in your mouth.

And so you aren't even surprised when he pushes your gun back into your hand and holds it to his forehead. Your are both standing again as if nothing has happened. His chest is heaving, the buttons of his suit strewn on the ground, your marks and both your blood on his skin.

Warmth trickles down your forehead into your eye and you can barely see. But the image of what you feel and hear is clear. His cold fingers gripping your wrist, the strength of a dying man. The utter calm in his voice as he tells you:

"Shoot me."

No begging, no questions. An order. Almost a request for the most twisted kind of mercy you are able to give. The Tiger cannot be tamed. It will die if it is locked up for too long. A flicker of heat in his gaze when he opens his mouth again.

"Do it."

You think of the feeling of his hair between your fingers, the sweet warmth of his blood on your skin, the salty taste of him in your mouth. His smell, his muscles moving under your hands, the blue of his eyes drilling into your soul, taking everything without asking. In another universe he might be yours. But here he is a fire too bright to be contained, a soul too broken to be mended. A man too alone to love.

He knows you will do it a split-second before you do. His lips curve up into a smile the moment you pull the trigger.

Red.

Red on your hands, on your clothes, on your skin, on your face.

Red on the ground, spreading slowly, making its way around cracks like a living thing. A red noise in your head, the ringing of the shot never stopping. A red, black, pale form on the ground, never moving again. A smile still painted on his face, mouth slightly open, as if he has never been happier.

Time stops. You do not move. You cannot breathe.

He is dead.

You are a hero.

But heroes don't feel empty.

Heroes don't weep.


	3. Surprise! [Single Dad & Ballet Dancer AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A birthday fic for the awesome [Vanessa!](http://arrkenshield.tumblr.com) Happy Birthday you wonderful person <3\. 
> 
> This is one of my favourite AUs because FLUFF. So much Fluff. A bit of context for this one: Marcella is mixed race and her mum Joanna is a freelancing travel journalist meaning she travels around a lot. Her and Dwalin are still friends, however, it was just that they both felt they weren't working as a couple when they separated. Since Joanna travels so much it was clear from the beginning that Marcella would stay with Dwalin although she sees her mum regularly when she's in town (the three of them even still do things together). (All of this because I HATE it when female partners are pushed into the 'evil ex-wife' role. Not all families are like that. Geez.)
> 
> Enjoy!

"Dwalin, can I come into the kitchen now?"

"No, you _can't,_ Thorin."

"Oh come _on_!" Thorin stands in front of the closed kitchen door trying to discern by the noises alone what is going on inside.

A small hand tugs at his shirt and he looks down, only to have Marcella grinning up at him. Dwalin's daughter has inherited her father's grey eyes and they ware glancing at him now, with all the earnesty that seven year old girls are capable of which is an awful lot, really.

"You won't get in there. Da is pretty strict about these sort of things."

"Is he, now." Thorin finds it hard to keep the amusement out of his voice, knowing that Dwalin would do pretty much _anything_ for his daughter if it just made her smile.

"Yes." Marcella sounds more than convinced and with a smile Thorin takes the hand she is holding out towards him. "Can you help me set up my castle instead of standing here?"

"Of course." With one last longing look at the kitchen door Thorin follows Marcella into her room where the various building blocks that would hopefully soon form a castle are already waiting for them.

He still wasn't entirely used to spending his evenings in so much company outside of performances. It had only been a good month since he had moved in with Dwalin and Marcella and his long years of bachelorhood had left their traces. Marcella seemed to have adapted to the new situation faster than him, much to both Dwalin's and Thorin's joy. One evening Dwalin had told him about the two other, rather fruitless attempts at a relationship since his divorce: one of them had left him as soon as they had found out he had a daughter - and the other one seemed to have tolerated Marcella, but not much more than that. From what Thorin could gather, the dislike had been mutual.

It has probably been to his advantage for him that he had known Marcella before he had met Dwalin. He can still only shake his head when he thinks about the amount of luck that has been involved - Tara, one of his friends at the theatre had asked him to fill in for a teacher during her maternity leave at the ballet school she was running and he had agreed, albeit reluctantly at first. Then, however, he had found out just how much joy teaching especially the younger children gave him, so much more than he had expected. Teaching the moves made him go consciously through everything that his body had internalised as routine already and as such he had been able to discover the little flaws that had found their way into his movements over the years of dancing.

He still remembers how his breath had caught slightly in his throat when he had seen Dwalin coming to get his daughter from her ballet lessons for the first time - tall, broad shoulders, bald head and tattoos everywhere, an image almost out of place at the school, especially amongst all the mothers. Hadn't Marcella actually one day told him that 'dad wants to ask you out for a coffee but he's too shy to do so, please say yes' he probably never would've taken the first step despite having noticed that Dwalin wasn't wearing a wedding ring.

Marcella is chatting away happily when he helps her to set up the castle, directing his hands with a clear idea of what it should look like in the end in her mind. Thorin is only too happy to oblige, fascinated by how complex her vision of what she wants to build already is. Under her instructions a castle grows under their hands, complete with its inhabitants and surprisingly elaborate defence structures that tell Thorin that Dwalin has already started to hand down his obsession with medieval and fantasy TV shows and movies to her.

"No, the knight goes there, not there." Marcella grips Thorin's wrist and directs him towards where she wants the little figurine positioned.

"Sorry." Thorin smiles at her and positions the tiny knight where she wants it. They add a few more things to the setup and then it seems like they are done - Marcella's face is beaming with obvious pride when she looks over their construction. She grins at Thorin who smiles back encouragingly and then comes over to him, settling against his legs. Thorin feels a wave of warmth rush through him. Marcella likes him and he knows it but she is naturally still shy when it comes to physical affection. Her snuggling up against him like she does now is a first and Thorin is more than glad for it.

"So what are we doing now?" he asks her, shifting his knees slightly as he's lying on the side so that she can sit more comfortably.

Marcella reaches into the box next to her and pulls out a rather large figurine of a dragon.

"Now I'm attacking the castle and you need to defend it!" She grabs the dragon with both hands and starts to approach the castle with it, all the while making roaring noises. Thorin tries to defend everything as best as he can, but of course he doesn't stand a chance against Marcella's determined assault in the end.

When he finally looks up from their game he sees Dwalin leaning against the doorframe, watching them both with a smile on his lips. A grin splits Marella's face when she catches sight of her father, raising her hand immediately and waving at him to come closer.

"Da, look!" she cries out in delight, grabbing his arm when he's close enough. She points out the castle in front of them that's slightly destroyed now by the valiant efforts of Marcella the dragon. Dwalin obediently lowers himself into a crouch next to her and listens attentively when his daughter explains to him the exact manoeuvres of the dragon attack and the defenses Thorin has set up that, of course, proved ultimately useless against her. Thorin exchanges a glance with him throughout Marcella's story and mirrors Dwalin's grin, his heart growing warm when he notices the proud glint of a father in Dwalin's eyes as he looks down at his daughter.

Dwalin seats himself on the floor and shifts slightly so that he's leaning against Thorin's shoulder. Thorin smiles and presses a quick kiss against his cheek which prompts Marcella to interrupt her own stream of words and frown slightly at them.

"Da, are you listening? You can do your adult-y things with Thorin later. Look, here comes the dragon again!" She grabs the toy and with a mighty roar the best comes down on the castle and the two adults sitting next to it.

Thorin obediently shrieks as high as he can possibly manage when he takes on the role of the attacked soldiers again, much to Dwalin's amusement. However, Thorin doesn't neglect to send his partner a glance from under raised eyebrows at Marcella's words - 'adult-y things?'. Maybe Dwalin's bed room walls aren't quite as soundproof as Dwalin had always claimed.

The defence of his toy soldiers is soon strengthened by Dwalin but of course, they can't resist the attack of Marcella's dragon for very long. Just when she swoops down for a final attack the alarm of Dwalin's trusty old dog-shaped timer goes off in the kitchen and he jumps to his feet with an apologetic expression.

"Sorry, I need to go get that out of the oven..." he mumbles and Thorin raises his eyebrows, amused at his sudden bashfulness.

"Can I help you with anything?" he asks innocently and laughs when Dwalin throws him a playfully angry glance and cuffs him over the head.

"You know exactly that you can't. Stay here and defend those soldiers from my daughter's wrath instead." Dwalin ruffles Marcella's hair when he gets up and she grins up at him.

"You keep him here and don't let him into the kitchen under _any circumstance_ , okay?" he asks his daughter and gives her a conspiratorial wink.

"Yes!" Marcella has a little too much enthusiasm for Thorin's taste, but he smiles when she settles back against his legs more firmly, gathering her dragon for one last attack against the castle that will presumably destroy the entire structure in the course of it. Dwalin disappears into the kitchen again and Thorin finds it harder and harder not to try and go after him, what with the delicious smells wafting in through the door by now.

The evening passes with Dwalin bustling in and out of the kitchen and Thorin being occupied with keeping Marcella busy - or the other way around, he doesn't quite know either. When they have tucked the little girl into bed and Dwalin has read her the story she still insists on hearing from her father every night Thorin starts cleaning up the floor after the trail of destruction his earlier game with Marcella has left there. Dwalin joins him after a while and they pick up the pieces from the floor one by one in companionable silence.

Thorin is tired after having had two rehearsals that day but thankfully, Dwalin doesn't seem to mind him going to bed early that night - after half an hour that Thorin spends reading his favourite book he even joins him, wrapping himself around him from behind and nuzzling his hair and neck with his nose until Thorin laughs and puts the book away, switching off the lights, thus giving Dwalin the permission to continue in the wordless language that is already theirs now.

His fingers intertwine with Dwalin's on top of his chest and he pulls his partner closer, humming softly in delight as Dwalin begins to kiss the back of his neck and starts to move down his back, peppering his skin with kisses all the way. He turns around to Dwalin midway, taking his face between his hands and pulling him up to kiss him, smiling into their meeting lips when he can feel the quiet rumble of laughter deep inside Dwalin's throat.

Despite his tiredness he doesn't sleep early that night, his fingers trailing lazily across Dwalin's heated skin when their naked bodies lie intertwined in the darkness.

"Happy Birthday." Dwalin whispers against the bare skin of Thorin's shoulder that he has put his head upon and Thorin chuckles.

"You kept me awake for so long just to be the first to tell me that?"

"Hmmmm." Dwalin acknowledges, still pressed tightly against him.

Thorin chuckles again and this time it's almost a full-blown laugh, making his chest vibrate.

"You're impossible." he murmurs but the affectionate squeeze he gives his arm reveals the teasing beneath the words. Dwalin grins and just shuffles more closely towards him. They fall asleep in their current positions, Dwalin's head pillowed on Thorin's shoulder and Thorin's arm slung around him, their bodies so close that their heat combines and seems to build its own cocoon of warmth around them.

*

Thorin gets woken up the next morning by singing. Marcella's voice is much louder than Dwalin's and even though the tone is slightly off there is no mistaking her enthusiasm and honest joy in what she's doing, the words to "Happy Birthday to you" tumbling out of her at great speed as she marches through the door in front of her dad, holding a little wrapped present. Dwalin comes in behind her, his deeper voice joining in with his daughter's singing and carrying a large cake in his hands with several burning candles on it.

Thorin thinks for a moment that maybe this is still part of his dream because it seems so surreal for a moment, so unlikely that someone would ever do anything like this for him. But Dwalin and Marcella are both real and the realisation that they just woke him up on the morning of his 32nd birthday with coffee and cake in bed starts to sink in when Marcella jumps on the bed, making Dwalin laugh out loud as he carefully puts down the tray he has been holding on the night stand next to Thorin.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY THORIN!" Marcella yells so loudly that Thorin feels like he's gone deaf for a few minutes after. She keeps bouncing up and down on his legs as he is slowly bringing himself in an upright position. Dwalin puts a hand on Marcella's shoulder to calm her down a little and bends over to press a quick kiss to Thorin's lips before his daughter demands all their attention again.

"I made you something!" she says and waves the little package in her hands in front of Thorin's face, holding her arms still only long enough to give her gift to Thorin before she starts flailing again. Thorin shakes his head, defeated by the boundless energy of the young girl. His nephews, not so much older than her, have been the same at her age and he wonders how on earth Dís survived those years.

With careful movements he frees the roll of paper from its wrapping and unrolls it on his knees that are still hidden under the bedcovers. Marcella sits on his legs whilst Dwalin is guarding the cake and hot drinks from her flailing arms, her attention focused on Thorin and his reaction to her present.

Thorin smiles as soon as he looks at the sheet of paper in his hands - it's a drawing of him dancing and Marcella doing the same movements next to him whilst Dwalin is standing at the side with a wide smile on his face. Marcella has tried to capture their features and the typical poses as well as possible - Thorin's hair is tied back as is her own, although quite a few strands of her locks are already escaping the knot at the back of her head and seem to lie like a halo around her face, just like they do in real life. Dwalin has his arms crossed in front of his chest and some black scribbles clearly denote his tattoos.

"Do you like it?" Marcella asks him anxiously and Thorin realises he has been staring at the paper for too long without saying a word, too touched to react.

"Yes." he smiles at her and Marcella's face lights up as she starts bouncing on his legs again. "It's really beautiful."

Thorin leans forward to hug her and Marcella throws her arms around him, shouting 'Happy Birthday' again as he thanks her for her gift.

"Thorin, I think your cake is about to burn." Dwalin says dryly and both Thorin and Marcella almost jump, turning around as one to look at where Dwalin is pointing at the cake on the tray.

"You need to blow out the candles!" Marcella's eyes are wide with excitement and Thorin changes his position, turning around slightly so that he can face the cake more comfortably. He takes a deep breath and tries his best to blow out all 32 candles at once (how Dwalin even managed to find space for so many on the cake is a mystery to him). Marcella makes a disappointed sound when he doesn't quite manage to do so, with five candles still left burning in the end that he quickly extinguishes with a second breath.

Marcella claps her hands and Dwalin smiles, leaning over to kiss Thorin softly on his lips.

"Happy Birthday." His voice is quiet as he congratulates his partner, their foreheads leaning against each other for a moment be he moves away again.

Thorin is lucky that his birthday this year is falling on a Sunday, so the three of them can have a lazy morning together in his and Dwalin's bed, eating the cake that Dwalin had so painstakingly been baking the night before and drinking the first cup of morning coffee in Dwalin's and Thorin's case and hot chocolate in Marcella's. Thorin marvels at the cake that Dwalin has made - several different layers and a complicated looking frosting that looks like it comes out of a professional bakery. It emerges that Dwalin's birthday cakes are subject to admiration throughout Marcella's circle of friends and he's been asked repeatedly if he would take commissions for cakes although most of the time he declines since his job as a construction worker often takes up too much time to do so.

At some point Dwalin moves back into his side of the bed, seating himself close to Thorin so that the two of them can lean against each other, Marcella seating herself between them and snuggling up to her father. It's as if they were a real family already, Thorin thinks and smiles. In a way, he supposes, they actually are, although there is no saying how long his relationship with Dwalin will last. If he has any say in it then it will go on for a long, long time.


	4. Glowing Embers [Politician!AU; paraplegic Thorin]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday Fic for the wonderful, amazing Matty aka [ bodysnatch3r ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bodysnatch3r/pseuds/bodysnatch3r)! Have a wonderful day my favourite little nerd bird ♥. 
> 
> This universe features Thorin, who's a politician, now at the beginning of his fourties and Dwalin, the new bodyguard he's been having for the past two years. Incidentally, Thorin is also paraplegic since an attempt on his life 18 years ago - not that that stops him from doing what he's best at aka politics. 
> 
> For anyone who wants more medical details about Thorin's injury (and how sex works in this case if the fic didn't make it clear for you :P), I wrote a little more about that in the notes at the end of this story. Also, if you find anything in here not medically accurate or offensive, etc., please let me know! I'm here to learn (: . (Also, there wasn't meant to be such much porn in this at first, I swear! It just kinda...happened. Oops.)

It was all Dís' fault, Thorin reflected sourly.

 _He_ had simply wanted a pleasant dinner with his sister and then an early night after a short chat with her, a good book to read and a nice glass of wine. _She_ , in contrast, had decided to call Dwalin without his knowledge, only to apologize for her error when he arrived slightly disgruntled because of the relatively late hour of the day and invite him to stay for dinner instead, 'seeing that you are here already anyway'. Her schemes were embarrassingly easy to see through and if Dwalin hadn't been there Thorin would have probably elbowed her in the ribs like he and Frerin had always done when they were children.

Now, an hour later and with Thorin's cooking completely demolished, a relative peace had descended over their little group and quickly replaced the awkwardness of the first few minutes (Thorin also had to admit that the excellent wine his sister had brought had probably helped). Dís had always been great at casual conversation, much better than Thorin himself who knew that he was a fine public speaker when it came to politics but had always tried to escape smalltalk. She had quickly enveloped Dwalin in a conversation about himself and, not so subtly, steered it in the direction of past relationships until he finally admitted that he'd had all kinds of partners before (a revelation that would likely also not have taken place without the wine on the table, Thorin's known sexuality and Dís' quick tongue).

Thorin was caught between embarrassment and relief and just a tiny glimmer of hope, especially when Dís elbowed him into the ribs with an obvious grin of 'told you so'. He tried to hide his own expression in the depth of his wine glass, hoping that his hair would conceal how his ears were slowly turning red. Unfortunately, his sister was no help whatsoever since she quickly excused herself after the end of the meal, telling them she had to be home early enough to catch some sleep before she had to get up with her sons the next morning.

After helping them to clean away the dishes she pressed a kiss to her brother's cheek and traded a quick embrace with Dwalin before she wished them both 'lots of fun' and disappeared out of the door, leaving Thorin and Dwalin to stare at each other over an empty table.

"So. Uhm." Thorin was fidgeting with his hands before he resolved to lean over the table and grab the bottle of wine again. "Want some more wine?"

"No, thanks." Dwalin was turning his still half-full glass between his fingers and for a moment, awkward silence descended again between them.

"Maybe we can move to the couch, it's more comfortable there..." Thorin suggested quietly in the desperate effort to say something that didn't sound as awkward and helpless to deal with the situation as he just felt. It was ridiculous, really - he had known the man for almost two years now but he had never felt so flustered in his presence before now (unless, maybe, the one time he had caught him changing). He was close to suggesting that Dwalin could also go home and he wasn't keeping him here when Dwalin looked up from his wineglass and directly into his eyes and Thorin swallowed when he felt himself drawn in by the swirling grey again.

"Yeah, why not." Dwalin averted his gaze after a moment, grabbing his and Thorin's wine glass as well as the bottle and walking over towards the living room, settling himself in one of the armchairs around the low living room table once he had safely deposited his load on it.

Thorin followed him and hoisted himself from the wheelchair into his favourite sofa, a quiet sigh escaping him when he felt the comfortable soft fabric in his back.

"Do you mind?" he asked Dwalin with a gesture at his legs and when Dwalin shook his head with a quick smile Thorin grabbed his legs and hauled them up on the sofa, until he was lying back comfortably against its side. Yes, better. At least he felt comfortable enough now that he could maybe try and make some conversation with Dwalin himself.

"I'm sorry that my sister called you out here for no reason." he apologised quietly again, turning his wine glass between his fingers.

Dwalin looked up at him and smiled, the expression making wrinkles appear beside his eyes and something go warm inside Thorin's stomach.

"It's fine. It's been a very nice evening so far." he replied honestly. "And the food was great. Does your sister come over often then?"

Thorin laughed.

"She claims that the only reason she _does_ come over at all is because of my cooking. Although I'm usually not as good when I'm doing it for myself - hardly seems worth the effort for only one person..."

Dwalin chuckled together with him and the next words escaped his mouth without him even thinking about it.

"Maybe I should come over more often then." As soon as the sentence had left his mouth he kicked himself mentally - the entire evening they had been balancing on the edges between proper employer-employee relationship and friendship and right now he had definitely crossed the line. Would Thorin throw him out?

However, instead of becoming angry at his little jest Thorin simply smiled.

"Maybe you should, yeah."

Somehow that little exchange had finally broken the ice between and for a while they were caught up in telling each other stories about their siblings. Thorin told Dwalin about what it was like to grow up in a household with two siblings that had nothing but mischief in mind - it was the first time Dwalin heard more about Frerin than just a fleeting mention of his name and he noted how Thorin's fingers never seemed to stay still when he talked about him, although his voice remained calm and measured and even tinged with laughter when he recounted his and his siblings' countless shenanigans. Dwalin knew that Frerin had been killed eighteen years ago, at the same shooting that had left Thorin without the use of his legs, but Thorin carefully steered away from the topic, obviously not wishing to bring up those memories just yet.

It was a quiet side to Thorin that Dwalin discovered once more during that night, so different from the mask Thorin always seemed to put on at public meetings and political debates. Of course Dwalin had known that the politician was different from the man and he had seen the facade drop before, especially when Thorin was amongst his family, but he had never experienced it so fully himself. This Thorin seemed to laugh and smile a lot more, for example, his tone and way of speaking much softer than in public. Dwalin found that it was hard for him to take his eyes off Thorin's face when he talked or the way his hands constantly seemed to be moving, playing with the wine glass between his fingers or the ring on the thumb of his right hand.

"What about you?" Thorin asked him finally. "I'm sorry; I feel like I'm doing all the talking and you're not even getting the chance to say a word. I'm afraid that's what happens as soon as I start drinking wine..."

Dwalin laughed and the sound made Thorin automatically smile as well, a spark of warmth glowing in his eyes that sent shivers of warmth to coil inside Dwalin's stomach.

"It's fine." _I could listen to you talk all night_. Dwalin swallowed, trying in vain to chase thoughts that would better belong into a the mind of a sixteen-year-old with a mighty crush from his mind. "I'm afraid the stories of me and Balin growing up aren't half as entertaining as yours..."

Thorin chuckled in reply and for a moment, his gaze met Dwalin's again, electrifying him. Dwalin smiled back and filled up both their wine and water glasses once more before he continued talking.

"Well, there was that one time when I got my first tattoo though-"

As well as a good storyteller Thorin also was an apt listener and Dwalin felt another shiver of warmth trickle down his spine when he found himself to be the subject of Thorin's sole attention. His fingers hitched to card themselves through Thorin's hair, his entire body clamouring that it wanted to be closer to him - it took all his self control to remain seated where he was.

The clock at the wall ticked on as they continued to exchange stories, now talking as easily and familiarly with each other as if they'd been doing so for years. Dwalin knew he had to work the next day, that Thorin had two important meetings to get to, yet he didn't want the evening to stop. He shifted slightly in his seat, his body betraying him more and more the longer he watched Thorin.

"Do you want to sit over here?" Thorin asked him suddenly. Dwalin's eyebrows shot up, even as Thorin began to shift his own position, manoeuvring his legs so that there was enough space for Dwalin to sit next to him. "I've always found this sofa much more comfortable than yours..."

Dwalin could decline now and once and for all draw the line between them - or he could follow Thorin's suggestion and see where it led. For a moment he hesitated, his bad conscience (he shouldn't be doing this. He was Thorin's employee, not whatever else he might privately wish to be) almost overwhelming him. Thorin's gaze, however, was still steadily directed at him, waiting for an answer or action on his part and showing no evidence that alcohol was marring his judgement in this case. The moment between them was slipping away already. No matter what he ended up doing, Dwalin had to move. Now.

He sighed and, with almost trembling finger, put his own wine glass back on the table before he stood up and settled down on the sofa. Thorin had been right - it _was_ more comfortable than the armchair and he immediately felt himself relax again. As close as he was to Thorin he could smell his scent now - the hint of cologne, a faint smell of muskiness and sweat underneath and the distinct odour that was Thorin's himself and that Dwalin would be unable to find any words to describe even if he tried.

Thorin smiled at him and Dwalin couldn't help but smile back, thinking that it was almost ridiculous how they were behaving like two love-sick teenagers right now. But he wanted him and suddenly the need was almost an ache, starting somewhere deep in his stomach and working its way downwards to his groin. Thorin licked his lips and the movement caused Dwalin to shudder slightly, a spark running through him as his eyes seemed to be unable to look at anything else. He didn't even notice when Thorin put his own wine glass back on the table, and started leaning in his direction.

Dwalin met him halfway, tilting his head slightly so that their noses wouldn't crush together. Thorin's lips tasted of the wine they had just been drinking, and a soft sweetness beneath it that beckoned for Dwalin to explore it more and more. It was only their lips at first but soon enough their mouths opened and Dwalin thought that surely, he would forget to breathe at some point. Almost unwillingly he pulled away for a moment as the alarm bells in his head began to shrill.

"This is a bad idea." he whispered. Thorin just smirked in response, reaching forwards to pull him close again.

"Why? Last time I checked we were two consenting adults."

Dwalin didn't get the opportunity to reply because Thorin was kissing him again, more forcefully this time and filled with barely concealed hunger, using his teeth as much as his tongue. Without thinking, his hand moved up to cup Thorin's cheek and travel down his neck, pressing him close against him which Thorin answered with the soft rumble of a laugh deep inside his throat. Thorin barely had the time to shift into a more comfortable position where he didn't have to twist his back to reach Dwalin before they kissed a third time, Thorin's body so close to Dwalin's now that he could feel the heat radiating from it.

It was Thorin who started moving first, planting kisses along Dwalin's jaw and further down his neck, clearly showing that he wanted more. Dwalin grinned and shut out the voices in his head once and for all that called it madness what he is doing. Thorin _was_ right - they were both adults, and both of them wanted it. Besides, nobody apart from Dís (who, Dwalin suddenly realised, had totally set them up) had to know.

Thorin's lips were leaving a trail of fire on his skin and Dwalin swallowed when he felt Thorin's fingers push aside the first layer of fabric on his shoulders. He pulled him closer, his fingers carding themselves through Thorin's hair until they found the back of his neck. Thorin shuddered slightly at the touch and leaned into him until their bodies are pressed together, the warmth almost making Dwalin lose his mind.

"You want to do it here?" he asked breathlessly when Thorin pulled away for a moment. Somehow the couch seemed too narrow for what they were trying to do, especially since Thorin was unable to steady himself with his legs. Thorin cocked his head, smiling slightly at the question even as warmth was blooming in his eyes.

"I'd prefer the bed." he said honestly. "Always hard to get back up from the ground should we roll down from the sofa."

His tone made it clear that it wouldn't have been the first time that happened to him, although there was a cheeky glint in his eyes when he added: "Also, I don't have any condoms here in the living room."

Dwalin grinned and kissed him again, nuzzling his nose and beard against Thorin's cheek before pressing his lips to his ear which sent another row of shivers down Thorin's spine.

"Then let's go." he whispered against his skin and Thorin laughed quietly, even as he started to bring himself into the right position so that he could lift himself back into his wheelchair again.

Neither of them spared any thoughts for clearing away their wine or the bottles as they left the living room, Thorin leading the way and Dwalin far too mesmerized by what was happening. He was unable to tear his gaze from the way Thorin's shoulders moved beneath the fabric of his shirt and the strength of his fingers and arms as he moved his wheelchair.

Thorin disappeared into the toilet for a moment, leaving Dwalin to stand almost awkwardly in his bedroom. He felt nervous like a schoolboy before his first date, his previous courage almost evaporating. Most of it, however, disappeared the moment Thorin returned and he could see the same fire as before burning in his eyes and the way he was moving. Without further ado Thorin moved to the bed, stretching out a hand in Dwalin's direction and snatching the edge of his shirt so that he got pulled in close. Thorin kissed him once more as soon as he was close enough, letting his upper body fall backwards so that Dwalin almost tumbled over him.

They exchanged more kisses between little bouts of laughter, growing more forceful and hungry with each passing moment until Thorin's fingers were pulling at the fabric of Dwalin's shirt again and Dwalin's hand had wandered under Thorin's clothes, following the line of collarbone. Thorin pushed Dwalin over to his side and rolled over with some difficulty himself, never stopping his frantic kisses to Dwalin's neck as his fingers began to nestle with the buckle of his belt. Dwalin was already pushing Thorin's shirt up in an effort to gain access to the skin beneath. For a moment their two movements were at odds with each other, until Thorin barked out a laugh and opened Dwalin's belt, holding still for a moment so Dwalin could unbutton his shirt and slide it off Thorin's arms.

The rest of their clothing was removed just as quickly, their movements becoming more frantic by the moment. Dwalin took a moment to admire Thorin's body next to him, running his hands down his chest through the strands of wiry hair. The fact that his legs were much less well-muscled didn't disturb him; Thorin was beautiful as he was and he wondered how anyone who had caught a look of his blue eyes could ever think otherwise. Thorin was staring back at him just as openly, his hands tracing the shape of muscles, scars and tattoos all over Dwalin's body before pulling him over into another kiss, even as one of his hands reached behind him to grab the condoms from the nightstand.

Dwalin felt himself flush slightly when a thought raced through his mind that he couldn't shake off and he hoped fervently that Thorin wouldn't throw him out once he had asked.

"So..." His voice faltered as they separated again and he coughed. "So, can you actually, you know..."

He made slightly helpless gestures with arms until he was sure that his face must be on fire, as hot as it felt right now. Thorin stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending, before he broke out into laughter.

"You should see your face right now." he pressed out before laughing again.

"I'm sorry." Dwalin murmured, already ashamed that he had asked, but still relieved that Thorin hadn't taken offense at the question.

"Nah, it's fine." Thorin smiled at him and Dwalin felt something give way inside him. "And to answer your question - yes, I can. Although it'll require some work and I might not be able to...keep it up as long. But, just to let you know, my mouth, hands and tongue are working just fine."

Dwalin must have coloured an even deeper shade of red at his rather suggestive last words, especially when Thorin closed one of his hands around his cock with a smirk. He had a faint inkling in his mind that Thorin probably hadn't always been as open about it as he was now with him and somehow it filled him warmth that he trusted Dwalin enough already to share such intimate things with him.

"So how far...where does your sensation stop?" Thorin cocked his head and honestly seemed to think about his question for a moment.

"Hard to say." he mused finally. "It isn't always that clear. Just do what you always do, and I will tell you whether I like it, how about that?"

"Hm." Dwalin leaned over to kiss him, no longer able to mutter a conscious answer as Thorin started to stroke up and down his rapidly hardening length. He stifled his groans in the skin of Thorin's shoulder, biting softly at first and then harder when Thorin didn't object. His shuddering body seemed to pulse in a rhythm with the strokes and he could feel Thorin's own skin become heated where was slowly rubbing against it. It was almost embarrassing how fast he came under Thorin's skilled hand but at the same time it felt right to him and the shimmer in Thorin's eyes told him that he didn't mind.

Dwalin set out to repay Thorin, moving downwards with his mouth from his shoulder towards his nipples, Thorin's hands ghosting over his back and down his spine, fingernails leaving grooves in his skin as he took one of the nipples into his mouth and gently began to tease, to lick and suck and finally bite until he could feel Thorin quiver next to him, his breath quickening as his fingers were digging into Dwalin's back, urging him on.

" _Dwalin_." His name spilled over his lips entirely unbidden and Dwalin smiled, closing his teeth once again around the sensitive skin whilst his hands were slowly wandering down over Thorin's sides to his hips. He was mindful to keep at least one hand up where Thorin could feel it, even as the other one moved up the inside of Thorin's thigh until he could feel his cock slowly harden. His mouth finally left Thorin's nipple and a single glance upwards showed him his lover's eyes and mouth wide open, pupils diluted and breaths coming in harsh, short pants. He began kissing Thorin's chest again all the while working his cock as well as he could manage, hoping that some sensation of it might be relayed through the rest of Thorin's body.

His head slowly moved downwards even as he breathed in the smell of Thorin's body, his chest hair tingling his cheeks as he nipped and sucked at the skin, leaving a trail of marks on it. As he moved deeper towards his crotch, a soft tug at Dwalin's neck signalled Dwalin to come upwards again and he complied at once, taking extra care with the skin underneath his lips. Soon Thorin was squirming against him again, his skin flushed with heat until a shudder ran through his body and his cock went limp in Dwalin's grip.

Thorin put a hand under Dwalin's chin and slowly pulled him upwards again until their lips met, rolling them over so that Dwalin came to rest halfway on top of him. Both of their bodies were still radiating heat and now they both took the time to inspect each other, learn the shape of flesh and what reactions a touch could elicit in different spots. Dwalin set to nibble lightly on Thorin's ear lobes and was surprised when Thorin urged him, panting harshly into the crook of his neck. He had never expected one of Thorin's most sensitive spots to be his ears.

"Guess you learnt one of my secrets." Thorin smiled when Dwalin looked at him again, before mapping out the tattoos on Dwalin's chest with his lips.

They began to talk again whilst they were exploring each other, asking stories of all the marks of their bodies, tattoos and scars alike. Dwalin's movements stilled momentarily when he encountered the scars on Thorin's chest, a few white and slightly jagged lines and two completely white spots, not larger than a penny towards the lower half of his body. Dwalin knew there were two similar ones on his back where the bullets had exited his body again after one of them had destroyed a section of Thorin's spine.

Looking up at Thorin to seek his permission he carefully rubbed them with his fingertips after a nod from him.

"Does it still hurt?" Dwalin asked quietly and Thorin shook his head.

"No, not most of the time. Sometimes it itches and very occasionally there's a flash of pain, but I barely feel them anymore."

Dwalin bent down to kiss the spots, ghosting with his lips over Thorin's skin until he could tell that his touch wasn't felt anymore. The scars were a strange texture under his lips but as he let his tongue caress them and then travel upwards again he could see Thorin biting his lips in an effort to stay silent. As he moved back towards Thorin's head another smile flickered over Thorin's face before he brought his hands up to Dwalin's neck and pulled him up completely, peppering his head, forehead and then nose with kisses before their lips met each other again.

"Again?" Thorin asked into their kisses and Dwalin grinned.

"If you're not tired yet." He was too slow to evade a punch from Thorin into his chest.

They were slower this time, more thorough with each patch of skin they touched, licked and kissed. Dwalin hesitated when Thorin offered him a condom and pointed to the lube on his nightstand, manoeuvring himself into a position that allowed him to keep his legs spread as Dwalin knelt between them, his intent clear.

"Are you sure?" Dwalin didn't quite know whether it was really a good idea. A part of him felt guilty for being able to enjoy such sexual actions more than Thorin could - and since Thorin would be unable to feel anything, he was also more scared of hurting him.  

"Yes." Thorin answered simply and pulled him down on himself again, kissing him with such fervour that Dwalin was left with no doubts about the trust Thorin was placing in him.

They took it slow, left time for each other to figure out how far they wanted to go, reassuring themselves again and again that what they were doing was enjoyed by both of them. Dwalin's guilt never fully disappeared, especially when he slowly lowered himself inside Thorin, always mindful to keep at least one hand somewhere on his lover's upper body, always touching, scratching, circling. It felt to him that Thorin was giving him a gift and was receiving so much less in return. The pleasure, however, that Thorin derived from watching Dwalin slowly becoming undone on top of him was undeniable; and the deep blue depths that his eyes turned into only spurned Dwalin on more, especially when Thorin placed his hands on both sides of Dwalin's hips to urge him into a soft rhythm once he knew that his own legs would be kept apart by Dwalin without his help.

Dwalin slowly lowered his upper body on Thorin's when he felt himself getting close to the pinnacle, his cock achingly hard as he was stifling his moans between the skin and hair on Thorin's chest, Thorin's lips pressed on his head and their fingers intertwining and squeezing when he finally shuddered under the waves of the orgasm breaking over him. They stayed like that for a while afterwards, Thorin's hands gently caressing Dwalin's back as he hummed quietly.

"Did you...did you like it?" Dwalin asked quietly, hoping his question didn't sound too stupid. Thorin smiled, not a mocking grin, but a genuine smile as he traced the lines of Dwalin's face with his finger and pressed a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"Yes." he finally replied. "Very. Although, next time, remember the ear lobes..."

Dwalin grinned in reply, making sure to make a mental note of it as he remembered how Thorin had seemed to slowly fall apart under his hands as he had been biting and caressing his ear with his tongue for a moment earlier. He made a point of nibbling on them now until he heard a breathless laugh mixed with a satisfied moan leave Thorin's mouth.

"And you?" Thorin asked, his eyes searching in Dwalin's face for the answer and the shadow of an old fear at the bottom of his gaze. "Did you enjoy it as well?"

"Mhmm." Dwalin affirmed with a deeply satisfied rumble, his fingers lazily trailing down Thorin's neck and the line of his shoulder. He felt like he didn't want to move for the rest of the night and maybe also the rest of his life; and when he finally did he almost felt like something was lost to him the moment he slid out of Thorin.

He told himself that hopefully this hadn't been the last time, that there would be many more opportunities - opportunities to learn each other bit by bit, to experiment, to figure out which spots on his upper body Thorin responded to the most, which movements made Dwalin quiver under no more than a single touch.

Thorin didn't seem to object to him staying in the large bed that was his, even after they had cleaned themselves up. Instead he rolled over to his side and moved closer to Dwalin, their bodies still naked, once he had returned from the bathroom and settled beside him and Dwalin hesitated only for a moment before he loosely put an arm around Thorin's waist, always willing to pull back should Thorin wish him to do so. However, his lover only made a satisfied sound deep in his throat before putting his own arm over Dwalin's, their fingers once more intertwining. Maybe, Dwalin thought, if they stayed like this, morning would never come and they could stay locked in their embrace forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We actually have quite a lot more stories from this universe (it's one of my favourites) and I really hope I can write more of them down at some point. 
> 
> (Now comes some in parts explicit medical stuff, if you don't wanna read that, just skip it xD - it's mostly for those who would want some more info about Thorin) I spent quite a while reading up on spinal cord injury for this baby and especially having sex with SCI. I think in Thorin's case he would have been hit by the bullet in the thoracic region, somewhere around T10 which leaves some of the abdominal muscle function intact (meaning that he can hold his balance on his own & might be able to achieve erections although they might not last as long as he wants them too/ejaculation is also difficult).


	5. Wherever you are [random modern AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt on Tumblr. The prompt was an angsty fic with ""Please come get me" or "Where are you?!" (preferably with Dwalin being the one in distress?)". I used a random modern AU (I made it up on the spot for the scene ahahaha) in which Dwalin just heard that his brother died (sorry Balin) and he more or less disappears whilst Thorin is worried like hell.
> 
> Warnings for this one include angst, mentions of character death and alcohol abuse.

_Sleep don't visit, so I choke on sun,_

_and the days blur into one_

_And the backs of my eyes_

_hum with things I've never done_

_([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7cYE444mk0))_

 

 

Each time his phone rang Thorin almost jumped out of his seat. He looked on the display with a hammering heart only to be disappointed again when it wasn't Dwalin whose name appeared on the screen. The worry grew stronger with each call that it wasn't him and more than once he almost lost his patience with the people who _were_ on the other end of the line, even though his landlord and the lady at the bank certainly weren't at fault.

They had been living together for several years now, years that Thorin looked back at with fondness and a feeling of warmth in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes they slept together and neither of them had ever bothered to truly draw out the fine line between 'best friends' and 'in a relationship' - they didn't have to, both of them content with what they had even though sometimes, when the darkness outside was deepest and the new day still young, they might wish it were different although neither of them would ever have the courage to say so.

However, Dwalin had been gone for almost a week now and Thorin was truly starting to get worried. They had received a call that Balin, Dwalin's brother, had died unexpectedly in a car accident and Dwalin had left only a few hours later, taking nothing with him but a small duffel bag in which he had randomly stuffed a few clothes. Thorin had let him go, knowing that there was little he could do to hold him back and Dwalin needed his own space and time to deal with his loss, the last one of his family being gone now. Thorin had only given him a quick embrace before he left, telling him to call if there was anything he needed. Dwalin had just nodded and then walked down the road, Thorin's gaze following him until he had disappeared around a corner at the far end.

Since then he had never switched off his phone, had always kept it within earshot and easy reach. He told himself that it was only natural that he would do so, that he wasn't longing to hear Dwalin's voice, that he was only worried like any friend would be. Still, he became more and more restless as the days went on, wondering where Dwalin was and what he was doing and whether he was alright.

When his phone finally rang and the display showed the right name he almost dropped it in the hurry of picking up the call.

"Dwalin?" He cursed his voice for sounding so breathless and undeniably worried.

"Thorin." Dwalin's voice was quiet and rough, as if it took him every effort in the world to press out that one word. He remained quiet afterwards and for a moment Thorin feared that he had broken the connection.

"Where are you?" he asked softly, hoping that he wouldn't be sounding too inquiring.

"I-" Dwalin took a deep breath as if he didn't quite know himself. After a moment, he continued to speak. "Scotland."

" _Scotland_?" Thorin's eyebrows arched up. It wasn't exactly the closest to London.

"Yeah, I came up here to-" Another break in Dwalin's speech and Thorin wondered whether his friend was drunk. Dwalin usually didn't talk much; but the odd pauses on his speech only happened when he was far more than just tipsy, just as his Scottish accent became significantly stronger like now. Thorin frowned - it was just past 3pm. Far too early for this much alcohol.

"Doesn't matter." Dwalin interrupted himself. "I-, Thorin, _I don't know what to do_."

The last words broke free of him as if he had been wanting to say them for a while, but hadn't dared to. He sounded so lost that Thorin felt his heart ache. It was almost as if he was hoping that Thorin would come for him and yet Dwalin would never voice such a direct request.

"Where exactly in Scotland are you?" He knew better than to ask Dwalin whether he was alright; he clearly wasn't. Thorin had already started to mentally shift his plans for the next few days around. He could always ask Bofur to fill in for him and there were still two days of holiday he hadn't taken yet.

"Isle of Skye." came the reply after a moment and Thorin almost choked. Dwalin must have indeed been travelling for quite a while if he managed to end up this far north.

"Do you have...an address or a meeting point or anything up there so that I can find you?"

The other end of the line remained quiet and Thorin feared again that Dwalin had disconnected when he finally spoke again. Thorin had to stop him after a moment to get pen and paper - Dwalin was rattling off an entire description of how to get to the area he was at, although it was remarkably lacking in actual street names or any other identifiable features.

"Stay there, alright?" Thorin told Dwalin, glad to hear that his voice had become slightly stronger towards the end. "Don't do anything stupid."

"When have I ever done anything stupid?" Dwalin replied, a shadow of his old humour back in his words. Thorin snorted.

"Don't get me started, or I'll still be here tomorrow."

There was a weak chuckle as reply before Dwalin hung up.

Thorin paced the room, trying to calm down before running out of their flat without so much as a single moment of planning ahead. Another hour or two more or less wouldn't make too much of a difference, he hoped. His first task was to call Bofur and tell him about the situation without going into too much detail. His friend was more than understanding and offered Thorin to help him clear the matter with their boss, an offer that Thorin accepted gratefully. He didn't really have the mindset or patience to be dealing with Gandalf right now. Next he had to pack, a task that was finished similarly as fast. Thorin remembered to take a few more of Dwalin's clothes as well, thinking that he was likely in need of a few more shirt, underpants and the like.

The drive that was supposed to have taken him eleven hours turned into a sixteen hours all night long-nightmare that not even the frequent stops he made towards the end could alleviate. It was a miracle that Thorin hadn't crashed the car, one that was probably more down to luck and the empty Northern Scottish roads than anything else. And _of course_ he got lost. Nobody in their right mind would have been able to follow Dwalin's instructions and arrive at the right place anyway. As it was it had just gone 9am when he finally spied the house Dwalin had been talking about.

"House", however, was a slightly too friendly word for what he found. The building clearly hadn't been lived in for several decades. It was small, only one storey high and the stone it was built out of looked weathered and had been crumbling at more than one edge. At one point there had probably been ornamental decorations and wooden shutters outside, but most of them were in shambles or gone now. Many of the windows were broken and Thorin could make out a few shards of glass on the short grass around it.

The only thing that had remained and would likely do so for some time was the view - Thorin noticed it only when he walked around the house to look for Dwalin, but from its backside the ground sloped steadily down until it abruptly dropped off, presumably as part of a cliff. Beyond it there was only thing that was visible - the sea. Thorin took a moment to appreciate the vastness and beauty of the view even as the wind whipped the strands of his tied back hair into his face before he took a deep breath and finished his tour around the house.

Dwalin was nowhere to be seen.

Thorin frowned and hoped that his friend hadn't gone somewhere else throughout the course of the night - he would be hard pressed on finding him, especially should he have his phone switched off like it was the case most of the time.

"Dwalin?" he knocked on the remnants of the door, just to be polite. "Dwalin, you in there?"

There was no reply and Thorin frowned, worry snaking through his stomach as he slowly pushed the last bits of wood out of the way so he could gain entry to the ruin.

"Dwalin, I'm coming in!" he called before he set foot into the old building.

The inside only looked marginally better than the outside. Most of the furniture was gone and there was all kinds of debris on the floor, from wooden bits and mortar and stone from the wall to a blackened patch where someone must have made a fire at some point. The first two rooms Thorin looked at were empty and he distantly noticed that, at one point, the little house must have been a much-loved place, maybe someone's holiday cottage. He found his friend in what must have been a bedroom once, if the crumbling remnants of several wooden bed frames were anything to go by.

Dwalin looked terrible.

He was sitting on the bare floor and leaning against the wall, huddled in a blanket as he stared at the ground. There were deep rings under his red-rimmed eyes and he looked like he had barely slept throughout the last days. Two bottles of whiskey - one empty, one half-empty, sat on the ground next to him together with his duffel bag and it must have been a week since he had last washed. Dwalin didn't even look up when Thorin came in, knees drawn up to his chest and with a blanket slung around his shoulders.

"Dwalin." Thorin softened his voice, trying not to sound too shocked at his friend's state. He carefully came closer, hunkering down next to Dwalin and reaching out with his hand, unsure whether he would accept his touch or not. "Dwalin, hey, it's me."

Dwalin finally turned his head to look at him and Thorin felt like he was being hit in the chest by how lost he looked.

"Thorin?" His voice was hoarse and cracking at the edges. Thorin could smell the whiff of alcohol on his breath. "What...what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to take you home." Thorin said gently, putting a hand on Dwalin's shoulder when he didn't move away. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

"We used to live here." Dwalin's voice was so quiet that Thorin barely understood it. "Balin, Ma, Da and me. This was our bedroom. Ma always wanted to sell the house after Da's death, but nobody wanted to buy it..."

Thorin sighed and sat down on the floor next to him. That explained it - why Dwalin had come all the way up here from London, probably right after the funeral, and the pain in his eyes when he looked at the shambles of the past surrounding him. He knew Dwalin didn't necessarily need words from him right now - it would probably be better if he kept talking and Thorin just listened. So he carefully inched closer to him until they were almost touching and was surprised when Dwalin leaned over slightly, bumping their shoulders together.

"I don't think any of us ever came back after Ma died too, although Balin often talked about retiring here when he was old." He remained quiet for a moment, his fingers playing with one edge of his blanket. "There used to be a small path down to the sea between the cliffs. We would hide on the beach down there for hours so that we could escape the chores at home. Balin...Balin always appeared like such a dutiful son outwardly but he was just as mischievous as me. One time he filled our dad's boots with rocks and sand and then blamed me..."

Dwalin chuckled slightly as his gaze was going back into the past and his voice slowly trailed off.

"Would you like to stay for a while longer?" Thorin offered him hesitantly, knowing that it would probably better at least for his friend's physical well-being if they could find a B&B or something similar and stay there for the rest of the day until he'd had a decent meal and a shower and Thorin some sleep before driving back.

Dwalin visibly thought about his friend's offer, but in the end he shook his head.

"No. Been here long enough." And, in a much more quiet tone, he added:"It's all long gone anyway, isn't it."

"Dwalin..." Thorin didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell him that all would be well, because it wouldn't - Balin was dead and this house would soon fall to the waves of time, taking the last scraps of childhood memories with it. The only thing he could offer was to be with him so that he wouldn't have to bear his burden alone.

Before Thorin could reach out to hinder him Dwalin had taken the half-filled whiskey bottle and taken a deep pull from it.

"I miss him, Thorin." he said very quietly, his words barely more than a broken whisper. "I never realised how much he meant to me when he was alive. But now that he's gone...lord, I miss him."

Thorin saw the wet shimmer in his eyes although there were no sobs, no shaking beyond that from the cold. Tentatively he reached out and put his arm around Dwalin's shoulder. Dwalin leaned into his embrace and none of them said a word as a few tears were running down his face, quietly, as if he didn't even realise they were there. The only thing Thorin did was to gently unwrap Dwalin's fingers from the bottle and, after a moment of consideration, take a long swig from it himself.

It took Dwalin a while to gain control back over himself and he sat up as soon as he did, smiling apologetically at Thorin.

"Okay, let's go."

Thorin helped him up, trying not to look too worried when he saw how haggard Dwalin looked as the blanket slid off his shoulders and he gripped his bag. When had he last properly eaten something? Dwalin staggered slightly but at least he seemed to be able to walk on his own even if Thorin always hovered nearby, fearing his friend would fall and hurt himself.

"Wait." Dwalin told him once they were outside. He took the bottle back out of Thorin's hand and moved a few feet around the house, tipping the bottle over on the wind so that the remaining whiskey splattered on the ground and parts of the wall in front of him. " _Mar sin leat_ , brother. _Tapadh leat_."

He stood there for a moment longer, staring at the bottle in his hands and then at the landscape stretching out in front of him, the blue sea shimmering not far away. Then he turned around to Thorin, giving him a sad half-smile that told him it would take much more than some spilled whiskey and a night out in their old house to close the hole in Dwalin's soul. At least there were two of them who could deal with it now.

"Alright." Dwalin said. "Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"Mar sin leat, brother. Tapadh leat." - "Goodbye brother. Thank you." I did some research and I hope this is the correct form of Gaelic I'm using here (I went for the informal/singular version rather than the formal plural), if anyone knows better please let me know!


	6. Excuse me, is this your cat? [happy-go-lucky modern AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A birthday fic for [the fabulous El](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_Noir/pseuds/Le_Noir)! I hope you're having a great day my dearest Dister and that you like this story. 
> 
> I was prompted modern AU with cats and I'm not quite sure where this turned into a romantic comedy, but it sure as hell did, ha. Here, for a change, have something totally happy.

The stairwell was much longer than he remembered. And the steps were weird as well - somehow they looked twice as high than usual and seemed to be _dancing_ for whatever reason. Thorin shook his head and tried to focus on the way up to his flat once more, but somehow kept failing. Did he really have that much to drink? Usually he wasn't that bad, but then, it HAD been Frerin's birthday and his brother had a talent for making everyone around him a lot more drunk than they'd initially planned on being.

"Stop moving." he murmured angrily at the stairs, but unfortunately they didn't have the graciousness to comply with his request. He groaned and held on to the railing as he carefully ascended the steps one by one, trying not to fall over or do anything similarly undignified. Thankfully he lived on the first floor, so he didn't have too far to go - but he still breathed a relieved sigh once he had reached his door. By now he was _convinced_ that he'd definitely had too much to drink. At least the coming day was a Sunday and that meant he could open his little bookshop downstairs later than usual and at least sort of sleep in.

He unlocked the door on the third try and after much fumbling with his keys. Switching on the light in the living room his gaze ran quickly over his small worktable, the TV, the cat on his sofa, the collection of books on his shelf and- _the cat on his sofa_?

Thorin was quite sure he didn't own a cat.

Yet, when he looked again it was still there. A completely real, completely normal white cat that was sitting on his sofa, obviously very comfortable where it was. How did it even get in here? Thorin resolved to walk closer and prod it to see if it truly was real and not a figment of his drunk imagination. The cat watched him curiously as he approached and didn't swat at his hand when he extended it towards it. It meowed quietly and looked rather disdainful when Thorin prodded its side with his finger. Its body was warm and the fur rather fluffy. Definitely a real cat then.

"Ha." Thorin didn't quite know why he was saying what he had just said but somehow it seemed an appropriate comment. The cat looked at him as if he had gone mad.

Thorin sat down next to it and extended his hands. After a short moment of hesitation the cat jumped up into his lap, starting to purr softly when he began to pet it.

"You're a nice cat." he told it honestly. "Who do you live with?"

It was wearing a small red leather collar and seemed rather well groomed and fed. Definitely not a stray then. Thorin shrugged - a nice side effect of alcohol was usually that he wasn't too bothered about sudden changes.

"Wanna sleep here tonight?" he asked the cat and it cocked its head slightly at the question before it meowed and demanded that it be petted more. Thorin grinned and flopped down on the couch, not bothering to undress. He punched a pillow in form under his neck and continued to pet the cat who was now lying on his stomach and purring contently.

*

The next morning greeted him with a hammering headache and much too bright light. Thorin groaned and refused to open his eyes or move in any other manner at first - his body felt stiff and looking back now, the idea of sleeping on his couch didn't seem all that alluring anymore. He felt like he had spent the night on a rocky outcrop instead of his living room from the way he was hurting all over. _It's because you're getting old_ , his mind told him tartly. He groaned again.

His glance travelled to the clock on the wall and suddenly he was a lot more awake, cursing loudly. He would have to open shop in less than an hour - barely enough time to take a shower, take something against his pounding headache and have a quick cold breakfast. Groaning a third time, he sat up and waited for the room to stop spinning before he put his feet on the ground.

A loud sound that was half meow, half indignant shriek suddenly sounded from below as one of his feet touched something rather soft and definitely alive.

Oh. So he _hadn't_ dreamed the cat last night.

"Sorry." he murmured and reached down to pet the cat again. It seemed rather insulted, however, and hissed at him before it hopped up on the couch again, beginning to clean its fur.

"Whatever." Thorin sighed and hoisted himself upright, cursing the world in general and his brother in particular once more. Then it occurred to him that the cat would probably be hungry and he shook his head - of course he didn't have any actual cat food in the house. He shuffled over to the fridge and opened its door, staring at its rather desolate insides for a moment. Then he tentatively took out some salami sticks that he had been keeping for the evening, cut it into small pieces and offered them to the cat. It seemed rather reluctant at first, but then accepted his rather strange idea of a breakfast, giving Thorin the time to take a quick shower and get ready for the day. Sometimes he wished he had a normal nine-to-five job with the weekends off but then he had to admit that he wouldn't have swapped his little bookshop for anything in the world.

He still had ten minutes when he was ready and decided to go and look for the cat's owner. As adorable as it was and as much as he had gotten used to it already he was sure that it would certainly be missed by someone. And his landlord had told him that someone new had moved into the flat next to his recently. The cat didn't protest when he picked it up gingerly and stepped out of his door.

Thorin took a deep breath before knocking on his new neighbour's door, suddenly feeling nervous. Even though he had contact with people in his bookshop all day he rarely walked towards them and asked them what they wanted; he usually waited from them to come to him. He knocked on the door as quickly and loudly as possible before taking a step back, stroking the soft fur of the cat on his arm to calm himself. The cat meowed quietly.

Thorin could hear some shuffling inside and then the door finally opened, revealing a rather well-built man who looked very tired and was wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers.

"Uhm." Thorin mentally kicked himself. Not a great way to introduce himself. To hide his slightly blushing ears he lifted up the cat. "Is this your cat?"

The man's demeanour immediately changed and a smile began blooming on his face.

"Frosty!" he exclaimed and held out his arms. The cat meowed loudly and immediately jumped from Thorin's arms into the other's. Well, that was the question of ownership definitely solved, Thorin thought.

"Thanks for bringing her back." The man's accent was distinctly Scottish. He looked up after cuddling his cat for a moment and extended a hand in Thorin's direction. "Dwalin."

"Thorin. I'm your neighbour." Thorin took the offered hand - Dwalin's grip was warm and firm, but not so much that it hurt. "Although I have no idea how she got into my flat in the first place."

"Probably through a window somewhere." Dwalin grinned and Thorin swallowed. Dwalin's smile had something about it that was quite alluring. He looked away before he would say anything stupid.

Dwalin seemed to sense his uneasiness for he his grin grew as he unabashedly looked Thorin over.

"Want to come in for a coffee?" he asked. Thorin would have liked to say yes, but unfortunately business wouldn't wait for him.

"I would love to." he answered truthfully. "But I've got to open the bookshop now and..."

"Oh, the shop downstairs is yours?" Dwalin interrupted him, though not impolitely.

"Yeah." Thorin didn't quite know what else to say.

"That's great." Dwalin smiled at him and Thorin wished he would stop. It made it rather hard for him to concentrate. "Maybe I'll come down and bring you a coffee later?"

"You don't have to go through any trouble because of me." Thorin was rather quick to say it, but it was true. He'd feel bad if he made Dwalin run around just because he didn't have the time to come inside his flat just now.

"It wouldn't be any trouble."

Thorin didn't quite know what to answer to that and evidently Dwalin didn't really know what else to say either, so they left it at an awkward goodbye before Thorin hurried down the stairs to open his shop. He was rather distracted for the rest of the morning, although he found some solace in his books, as always. His shop didn't have that many visitors, but many of them were regular customers who would come by for a chat as well as to buy books. One of them was Bilbo Baggins who came by as he did every Sunday; he was a professor for history (early medieval, if Thorin remembered correctly) and with a great love for literature and their chats were always interesting.

Just when Bilbo had left, the door to his shop opened again and Thorin saw, to his pleasure, that Dwalin had come in. His new neighbour carried two coffees from the nearest Costa and a paper bag.

"Told yer I'd come." he grinned as he deposited his load in front of Thorin. Thorin couldn't help but answer with a smile of his own and take a peek inside the bag from which four freshly baked doughnuts were meeting his gaze.

"Thanks. It really wouldn't have been necessary..."

Dwalin brushed his politeness aside with a quick gesture.

"It was. Now, would you like to enjoy what I brought or are we going to stand here all day?"

Thorin raised his eyebrows at Dwalin's directness, but somehow it was refreshing. Many of the people he knew and who came into his shop often tried rather too much to be polite and it annoyed him at times although he knew he wasn't exactly an exception himself.

"No eating here where the books are though, I'm afraid." he explained and pointed at the little sign he had put up close to the entrance that stated in big letters 'NO FOOD OR DRINK INSIDE, THANKS'. "But there's a backroom we can use from where I can watch the door and see when customers come in."

"The backroom? Sounds rather ominous." Dwalin cocked an eyebrow and Thorin had to suppress a chuckle.

"You'll come in at your own risk." Thorin confirmed. "It's where I keep all the dangerous books, you know. The ones that could eat you."

"Wow, that really does sound dangerous." Suppressed laughter was swinging in Dwalin's voice, making his gruff timbre even deeper. "I better stay close to you then."

"You should." Thorin replied, surprised by his own cheekiness. Frerin and Dís would have been laughing their heads off could they see him now. He unlocked the door to the little backroom where he often sat and had his own lunch and beckoned Dwalin to step in, pulling out a second chair for him to sit own. Dwalin put the coffee and doughnuts down on the table but made no efforts to sit, looking at the pictures on the wall instead. Thorin felt his ears go slightly red again - he'd had momentarily forgotten about those. Most of them were harmless, showing him and his family and a few friends, but there were a few of his past two boyfriends, some of them dating back to his years in Sixth Form.

Dwalin didn't seem to mind though, just sitting down and pushing one of the coffees over to Thorin together with several little packages of milk and sugar.

"Your partner?" he asked after the first sip, pointing at one of the more recent photographs. Thorin almost choked on his own coffee.

"Yeah." At Dwalin's slightly disappointed gaze he hurried to add "but not any longer. We broke up a few years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Dwalin replied although he didn't seem too sorry as far as Thorin could tell.

"It's fine. There were no hard feelings, on either side really."

"That's nice." Dwalin took another sip of his coffee and suddenly Thorin didn't quite know what else to say. He cleared his throat and hoped he wouldn't appear to intrusive with his next question.

"So you just moved here? I hope it's not too straightforward to ask why?"

"Not at all." Dwalin smiled back at him. Something inside Thorin's stomach began to flutter. "They closed down the shop I've been working in so far. Found a new one over here and decide to find somewhere to live that was closer to work here than bloody Reading."

"And so you moved to Stratford." Thorin chuckled. "I hope you're not working in central London because that wouldn't really make that much difference..."

"Nah, it's actually a 30 minutes walk from here." Dwalin laughed. "I was lucky to find this place."

"Sounds like it." Thorin agreed. He thought of the person who had lived in Dwalin's flat before him - the young lady named Arwen had only lived there for three years before she moved away again to live with her partner.

"How long have you been living here for?" Dwalin finally asked after another few minutes of silence.

"Most of my life, actually. Here in Stratford, I mean. My family's from here and when we were little me and my sibling used to haunt the neighbourhood. And at some point, after a few failed attempts at other stuff, I took over this little bookshop from its previous owner who had gotten too old to carry it on."

"That sounds like the opposite of my life." There was laughter in Dwalin's voice before he began to recount the rather tumultuous happenings of his life so far. Thorin didn't even notice how the time passed as he was listening with apt attention to the man sitting in front of him. As Thorin had surmised from his accent, Dwalin's family did indeed come from Scotland and he had been born on the Isle of Skye. They had moved down south when had been in his teens and then around Britain, following wherever there was work to be had for his parents and later for him whilst his older brother Balin studied History at university. When it turned out that Bilbo, Thorin's regular customer and Balin were actually good friends both of them laughed. A rather strange coincidence, indeed.

Several customers entered the store and a few times Thorin got up to check on them, give his advice and help if they were searching for something, and sell them the books they wanted. Dwalin didn't seem to mind; Thorin apologized each time he left him alone but Dwalin told him that he wasn't in a hurry, today was his day off after all and he'd done his shopping earlier already before he'd bought the coffee and doughnuts. Thorin couldn't deny that he was happy that Dwalin was staying for so long; but he also felt a bad conscience growing inside him. He couldn't imagine that sitting in the little back room of his bookshop would be the ideal way for _anyone_ to spend their time on their day off.

The little bell over his door chimed again and Thorin looked up to see his brother, sister and his two nephews walking through.

"Uncle Thorin!"

A small bundle of child barrelled into him, shrieking in delight when Thorin lifted him up to set him on his hip. Thorin noticed his arms aching; soon Kíli would probably be too heavy to do so, as Fíli already was. He hugged Fíli and then Dís and Frerin whilst Kíli was babbling happily into his ear and tugging at his hair. He was delighted that they had decided to come over.

"Won't you introduce us to your guest, Thorin?" Dís asked him, nodding at Dwalin who had gotten up from his seat and come out from the backroom.

"Ah, yes. Sorry." Suddenly he felt slightly flustered. "This is my new neighbour, Dwalin. I found his cat in my flat when I returned last night and he bought me a coffee as thanks earlier."

He didn't add that Dwalin had come into his shop over two hours ago. Dís extended a hand in Dwalin's direction and introduced herself and the rest of her family.

"Nice to meet you." she smiled in his direction.

"And you." Dwalin smiled back.

Thorin had always envied his sister's talent to involve people in conversations, even those she didn't know. This time was no different - after a few moments Dwalin and Dís were deeply involved in talking to each other and Kíli had become heavy on Thorin's arm.

Frerin drew Thorin aside whilst the two were talking to each other. His facial expression made it clear to Thorin that his brother's hangover was at least as bad as his own, but he only found himself shaking his head amusedly at it. He wondered how long the party last night had been going on for after he'd left. For the moment, he turned towards his nephews, keen on keeping them busy as their mother and uncles were talking.

Thorin knew the kind of books his two nephews enjoyed and always kept some of them at a special place so they could read them whenever they came by. Kíli couldn't read yet, but Fíli was more than eager today to read a few sentences to his little brother. Thorin kept a wary eye on them, knowing what kind of mischief those two could come up with if left alone.

"So, have you two been on a date yet?" Frerin's grin was so wide that is almost seemed to fall out of his face. Thorin glared at him, although he had basically expected the question. He had known his little brother for long enough after all.

"Frerin, I've known this man for a few _hours_." he laughed. He had to admit that he felt at ease in Dwalin's company and would have loved to know more about him, but he wasn't one to go into anything this quickly.

"So what? Go out together. Have a drink or two. Or invite him into your flat, he's your neighbour after all." Frerin sounded almost incredulous that Thorin hadn't thought of those things yet.

"That's something _you_ would do. I'm not that straightforward and you know it, brother." Thorin shot back. Frerin groaned.

"Aw, come on. He's cute. Shall I ask him out for you?" There was a cheeky glint in his eyes and Thorin could grab his arm just in time before he marched off towards Dwalin and made true to his threat.

"Absolutely _not_." Thorin told him. "I appreciate your advice, but I don't actually need you meddling around."

"If you want to call me ensuring my _dearest_ brother's happiness 'meddling'..." Frerin pouted and the image was so ridiculous that Thorin started laughing.

"Alright." Frerin sighed. "But promise me you'll actually do something about it. Don't just pull a Jack Sparrow and wave at the opportunity as it goes past, okay?"

Thorin just answered with a soft elbow in his brother's ribs that Frerin evaded with a little laugh.

"So what are you two discussing?" They both almost jumped at the sound of Dís' voice and turned around to see Thorin's sister standing there and watching them with a smile on her face, Dwalin was leaning on a book shelf behind her. Thorin hoped sincerely that he hadn't heard the conversation between him and Frerin. Frerin shot him a glance and Thorin could sense that his brother was about to make an inappropriate remark, so he just smiled.

"Nothing important. Just comparing hangovers from last night."

Dís snorted at his obvious lie, but left it at that for which Thorin was quietly grateful. Somehow the afternoon passed with a few more customers and a lively conversation between all of them. At some point Fíli and Kíli decided that they'd had enough of reading and were about to start wreaking havoc in the bookshop when Dís decided that it was time to take the two of them home, especially when Kíli's mood suddenly changed and he spent fifteen minutes screaming and crying on the floor because he couldn't have stroopwaffles _right now_. Dís just sighed and tried to distract her youngest, the tiredness palpable in her face for a moment. Thorin wished he could have done more to help her and the children, knowing that the past few years had been difficult for her as a single mum.

"You have a very lively family." Dwalin remarked with a laugh once they'd left.

"I'm sorry for the sudden chaos." Thorin apologized, but Dwalin waved off his words.

"Nah, I don't mind. My brother doesn't have any children and I rarely see the rest of the family back in Scotland so it's nice to have some more lively company."

"I hope that doesn't mean you thought my own company was dull before they came." Thorin couldn't help but remark, but his tone was light enough for Dwalin to hopefully understand the jest.

"Yes, I was so bored that I couldn't help but stay for two hours." Dwalin laughed out loud and after a moment Thorin joined in, happy to see that Dwalin had understood his joke.

"I'm afraid I have to go now, though." Dwalin added. "I promised I'd call my brother today and I need to make sure Frosty hasn't escaped again."

Thorin tried to hide the pinch of disappointment he felt at Dwalin's words. He had been here with him for several hours after all.

"Yeah, no problem. I'm only open for another two hours anyway." he replied, hoping he didn't sound too disappointed.

"Well, if you want to, we could go out for a beer in the pub around the corner later..." Dwalin added, slightly hesitant. Thorin felt as if someone had warmed his stomach from the inside.

"That would be nice." He mentally kicked himself, feeling like a schoolboy with his first crush again. He didn't even _know_ whether Dwalin was actually into other men.

"Great." Dwalin smiled at him. "I'll see you later then. Knock at my door around seven?"

"Yeah."

Thorin couldn't keep the smile from his face for the rest of the day.


	7. Hello Kili [blind Dwalin]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something fluffy for in between that I quickly wrote last night. Set in the same universe as the first story in this collection.

"You look nervous," Thorin remarked as they climbed the steps towards the flat that belonged to Dís and her family.

"That's because I _am_ ," Dwalin shot back. One of his hands was firmly closed around the railing of the stairwell they were walking on, the other held his cane as he was feeling his way upwards. Thorin had temporarily taken hold of Bucky's leash additionally to Vee's. It was perhaps the only instance where it was easier for Dwalin to feel his own way up step by step rather than relying on his guide dog, although both of them would have preferred a lift which unfortunately didn't exist in this rather disability-unfriendly building.

"There's no reason to be," Thorin smiled. "I mean, you know Frerin, you know Dís, you know Víli, you know Fíli...Kíli is just another addition to the family, really."

"Yeah, but he's a little baby, Thorin," Dwalin said as if he couldn't comprehend why his partner wasn't freaking out as well. "One that shouldn't technically even be born yet. I don't want to hurt him."

Thorin stopped on his ascent, sighing deeply. Dwalin heard his steps faltering and stopped after a moment as well, frowning as he turned towards where he thought Thorin was standing.

"Dwalin. You _won't hurt him_. Just because you're blind, doesn't mean you're a brute. In fact I know nobody else who is as gentle as you at times."

"Yeah, but what if-"

"No what ifs." Thorin came over and touched his arm lightly, a gesture of trust and reassurance that meant to Dwalin what a reassuring smile would have meant to others. "We'll see what happens, alright?"

Bucky whined in accordance with Thorin's words and pressed against Dwalin's leg as if he wanted to tell him the same. Dwalin smiled and reached out to pat his dog on his head without losing his grip on the cane at the same time.

"I guess," he sighed. The rest of the stairs they climbed in silence before they finally reached the second floor where Dís and her family were living. Thorin handed the control over Bucky back to Dwalin as soon as his hand had left the stairs' railing and rang the doorbell. There were voices behind the door and then some shuffling before it opened. Thorin smiled when he saw his five-year old nephew standing in the doorway.

"Uncle Thorin!" Fíli shouted, immediately throwing himself into Thorin's arms who laughed and embraced his nephew back. A small smile showed on Dwalin's face when he heard Fíli's voice. He turned slightly in his direction, opening his arms as a sign for Fíli that he could come and embrace him too if he wanted. Fíli knew that he wasn't supposed to barrel into Dwalin unexpected since Dwalin couldn't see him coming.

"And Uncle Dwalin!" Fíli didn't hesitate to hug Dwalin either.

"Hi Bucky, Hi Vee." The young boy continued to greet the rest of them, although he made no move to touch Bucky. His parents had taught him from the beginning, that Bucky were Dwalin's eyes when he was guiding him and as such, it would be like taking Dwalin's sight away if he was distracted. The boy knew that he would have ample time to play with Bucky later once Dwalin had settled down somewhere. Instead, Fíli now held out a hand in Vee's direction. On bad days, just like Thorin, the dog's PTSD meant that she was scared of any loud noises or sudden touches and it was something that Fíli could relate to - after all, sometimes he didn't want to be touched either and his parents and uncles always respected that. Today, however, Vee was having a better day and immediately came over to be petted by Fíli, her tail wagging happily as she was licking his hand, causing Fíli to laugh in delight.

By now somebody else had appeared in the doorway and Thorin smiled as he recognised Víli. Dís' genderfluid partner was wearing a simple skirt and slouchy shirt today and looked tired but happy.

"Come in you two. Dwalin, take care you don't fall over the shoes on the right, Fíli forgot to put his away earlier." After some shuffling and rearranging their things Thorin and Dwalin had made it into the flat, Fíli dutifully closing the door behind them before running past them, shouting for his mother that Dwalin and Thorin had finally arrived. Víli enveloped both of them in a hug before helping them find their way around the chaos in the entranceway of their flat and getting rid of their coats and shoes. Dwalin had been here often enough by now to know his way around, so he knelt down and took off Bucky's harness.

"Good boy," he murmured as he patted his dog and gave him a few treats.

"Fíli!" he then called out, hearing the sound of his light steps on the floor only a moment after. "Can you give Bucky some water? I'm sure he needs it now after the long way here."

"And Vee too," Thorin added, taking the leash off the dog at his side.

"Yes!" Fíli shouted enthusiastically before racing off towards the kitchen, Vee following him immediately whilst Bucky stayed and turned towards Dwalin, whining questioningly.

"Go, boy, it's fine. I'll find my way around," Dwalin chuckled and Bucky huffed and made his way into the kitchen where Fíli was already filling the two dogs' water bowls that Dís kept there for their visits.

"We're in the living room," Víli called out and Dwalin began making his way there followed by Thorin who occasionally warned him when something wasn't at the place where he remembered it being. Thorin was carrying the bag they had brought with them, containing gifts for the recently grown family. His smile widened when he caught sight of his sister who was currently nursing her new son.

"I can't get up right now because Kíli is drinking, but there's two chairs right next to me at the big table," she smiled so that Dwalin knew where to go. Thorin came over and gave her a quick embrace and kiss on her forehead before he settled down next to Dwalin, putting the bag on the table.

"We brought a few things," he announced and Dwalin smiled.

"Yeah," he took over from Thorin. "We made lots of soup and also a big pot of your favourite risotto, you can put them in the freezer and reheat them whenever you want to. And Thorin managed to get some reusable nappies because he said you loved these a lot the first time around." He could hear Thorin unpacking the bag and showing Dís and Víli all the items whilst Thorin was talking about them.

"You two are gifts from heaven." Dwalin could hear the exhaustion in Dís' voice as she was speaking, but also her gratitude and joy at the little baby in her lap. "Thank you so much."

Not everything had been easy in the past few weeks - Kíli had been born almost two months too early and although they had been lucky and his life had never truly been in danger, the time had still been difficult for all of them, especially Dís and Víli as they kept commuting between their home and the hospital, somehow trying to juggle job responsibilities, Fíli's care and their worry for Kíli. Frerin, Thorin and Dwalin had helped as much as they could, taking care of Fíli when necessary, cooking for them, cleaning and doing whatever else they could think of to make it easier for them. After two weeks little Kíli had been stable enough that the doctors had allowed Dís to introduce their newest family member to her brothers and Thorin's partner, but Dwalin had refused to hold Kíli for fear of hurting him or damaging anything, a fear that still hadn't disappeared.

Now the baby was a month old and sounded rather satisfied as he was drinking his mother's milk. According to Thorin he was still small, but was doing perfectly fine and developing as well as could be expected under his circumstances. According to Dís it kept them awake at night, just as Fíli had done and by now Kíli's voice was already almost as loud as his brother's. Dwalin heard the satisfied little sound the baby made as it was finally done with drinking and Dís sighed in relief, her clothes rustling as she rearranged them and momentarily handed Kíli over to Víli who held him until he burped quietly and promptly fell asleep afterwards. Thorin flinched when something banged to the floor in the flat above them at that exact moment, the noise sounding far too much like the stories of their old house beginning to break down when it had been burning over a decade ago, him still caught inside it and unable to find his brother. Dís put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly.

"Is there anything else we can help you with?" Dwalin asked, equally because he wanted to distract Thorin and because he felt slightly useless just sitting there, talking with Dís and her partner.

"No no, don't worry." Dís laughed. "I'm going to go and have a look in the kitchen - Fíli has been suspiciously quiet a bit too long now for my taste. If you could hold Kíli for a moment so that Víli can help me to carry everything you've brought?"

"Yeah, sure." Thorin smiled at her, seeing how Dwalin flinched slightly at Dís' words, obviously not ready at holding the baby yet. Víli handed her little son over to Thorin and Thorin laughed when the baby shifted slightly to adjust to the strange new person, but didn't wake up for now.

"I forgot how small and light babies are," Thorin murmured and Dwalin could hear a large amount of affection in his voice that made him smile.

"Describe him to me?" Dwalin asked him quietly. He could hear Thorin smile again before he answered.

"Why don't you hold him and feel for yourself?" Thorin asked back.

"Thorin, I-" But it was too late and Dwalin could already hear his partner's steps coming towards him.

"Hold your arms in front of your chest," Thorin instructed him, correcting the position of Dwalin's hands with a gentle grip after a moment. "There, that's good. Now, wait. Kíli, meet Dwalin..."

Dwalin could feel something settle on his left arm, although the bundle was lighter than he'd expected. There wasn't any going back now and so he swallowed, automatically adjusting his hold so that little Kíli was lying safe and secure in the crook of his left arm. He hesitantly patted the blanket that the baby was swathed in to find out where the fabric ended and the little human began.

Thorin sat back down and watched with a smile on his lips as Dwalin was slowly acquainting himself with Kíli. He found his little hand first, an expression of marvel blooming on his face as he felt the tiny fingers one by one, Kíli's entire hand as wide as two of Dwalin's fingers. Then he very gently continued to his face, his touch soft so that he wouldn't wake the sleeping baby. He traced the baby's nose, the soft rounding of his cheeks and brows, smiled a little at the soft fuzz of hair on his head. Thorin's breath was hitching in his throat when he looked at the wonder in Dwalin's expression.

"He's so small," Dwalin said, his voice rough. Kíli chose that exact moment to make a little sound and shift, the fingers of his one hand firmly clamping around Dwalin's index finger. Dwalin chuckled slightly.

"See, I told you it wouldn't be so bad." Thorin smiled as he stood up and came closer to stand behind Dwalin and touching his shoulder briefly to signal to him where he was. "No reason to be afraid."

"Yeah I didn't-" Dwalin swallowed again. "He's a marvel, isn't he."

"That he sure is." Dís' voice sounded from the living room door. "But apart from that he's basically like every other baby - he screams a lot, sleeps a lot, spits around food and poops a lot. And from time to time he gives you puppy eyes so that you forget everything about the former and think you have the sweetest baby that ever existed."

Thorin laughed and turned around to see her coming closer with a wide smile on her face, Bucky and Vee trotting next to her and Víli behind her with Fíli on her arms. Dwalin made a move as if to hand Kíli back to her and she raised her hands, remembering after a moment that Dwalin couldn't see her gesture.

"No no, it's fine, you can keep holding him if you want. In fact, Kíli seems rather content on your arm."

Bucky came up to Dwalin and whined quietly, putting his head on Dwalin's knee just as Vee was walking over to Thorin to press against his legs until Thorin reached down to pet her gently after which she plopped down on his feet with a satisfied huff, the short time of playing with Fíli in the kitchen clearly having exhausted her already. Dwalin took a moment to juggle both holding Kíli and reassuring Bucky that everything was fine by petting him briefly, but he managed.

"I'm sure we'll be needing a baby sitter once or twice in the near future," Víli said with a smile in her voice and Fíli shouted something on his arm about how much he'd like to sleep over at Uncle Dwalin and Uncle Thorin's again. Thorin laughed and after a moment, Dwalin fell in with his laughter, the baby on his arm miraculously somehow sleeping through the noise.

"And I'm sure we'll be too happy to be one for you," Thorin offered with a look at Dwalin. Yes, he thought, it was quite safe to assume that they'd be coming around more often in the future.


	8. Contract Killer AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no idea what the fuck this is. The initial idea stemmed from modern Dori always looking so lovely and happy and super innocent so it would be great if he were an actual assassin/contract killer. Who hides knives under his doilies. SOMEHOW that morphed together with a Dworin Week prompt and here we are. I actually ran out of time with this one; I hope I can continue the story at some point.
> 
> Warnings for dead people and lots of black humour. Also non-explicit banging.

Why on earth did corpses have to be so _heavy_?

Dwalin grumbled quietly as he dragged the limp body along the narrow alley, reminding himself to get rid of all the traces later. The alley seemed deserted at least, apart from the large dumpster at the house wall that was his goal. At least there were no streetlights here and apart from the upper row of windows in the third storey of the building next to the dumpster the houses remained dark as well. Dwalin sighed and went to work again, dragging the body the last few feet towards the dumpster. He was just about to begin heaving it inside when he heard a noise from around the other corner of the small alleyway.

“Fuck,” he murmured, taking cover behind the dumpster. Not much he could do about the body for now. But he didn’t like to kill innocent witnesses, dammit. Usually there was too much crying, and everything in general became such a _mess_. Dwalin’s wasn’t that kind of assassin. His work was _clean_.

He risked a glance from behind the dumpster and raised his eyebrows at a sight that was rather unexpected. Somebody was slowly walking directly towards the dumpster that he was sitting behind – and they, too, were dragging something that looked suspiciously like a dead body with them. Dwalin tried to stifle a slightly hysterical laugh.

This couldn’t be happening.

The dumpster shook slightly when the other person bumped against it with their back. Dwalin could hear a mumbled curse, some rustling and then, silence. Until…

“Oh, come the FUCK on!”

A deep, rumbling voice, not exactly unpleasant to listen at. Dwalin guessed that whoever was using his dumpster to dispose of their own victim had just found the corpse he had left. He was fighting with himself whether he should come out or not, but the decision was taken off his shoulders when he could hear steps coming closer, definitely in his direction.

With a movement as fast as a thought he pulled his trusted gun, of course freshly reloaded even after the job had been done, and rolled to his feed in a single fluid motion.

He found himself face to face with the barrel of another gun pointed in his direction. His eyebrows arched when he saw the man holding it – a rather attractive face as far as he could make out in the darkness of the alleyway, framed by shortly cropped dark beard and long hair that had been pulled back into a lazy bun. _A hipster killer?_ he mused, well aware that a smile was playing around his mouth. _Let’s hope not_. None of them were pulling the trigger as of yet. Dwalin felt the stranger’s eyes muster him and the gesture made him feel acutely self-aware. At least there was no blood anywhere on him. And he always wore gloves (as did, he saw now, the other).

“That your corpse?” The stranger asked, without taking his eyes off Dwalin as he bumped the corpse on the ground next to him with his foot.

“Well, _I_ am obviously still alive.” Dwalin bared his teeth in a small grin. “But I brought the body, yeah.”

“So. What do we do now?” The other one asked, rather pragmatically. “Killing each other seems like quite the waste.”

Dwalin narrowed his eyes, but of course his opponent was right. If he judged his confident stance correctly, the other was no less proficient in his job than Dwalin was.

“Help me lift this,” Dwalin nodded over to where ‘his’ corpse was lying. “into the dumpster. Then I’ll help you and we’ll go our separate ways. Not a word ever lost about this event.”

“Agreed.”

They both lowered their guns at the same time and when the other turned, Dwalin could make out a little more of his features. Very definitely not unattractive _at all_.

They hauled the first body up and over the dumpster’s edge with little trouble and in what was an almost synchronised motion. Dwalin noted that the corpse the other had brought had been killed rather professionally as well, confirming his suspicions that it definitely wasn’t an amateur or newbie he was working with here.

Just as they were about to lift up the second body, however, there was a creak from above them. They both cursed at the same time as they looked up and saw an elderly man with shortly cropped white hair leaning out one of the lit windows above them.

“Hey, boys!” he called out.

Dwalin and the stranger looked first at each other, then at the man above. 

“Hey!” they called back up, trying to look as if they _weren’t_ currently about to get rid of a corpse. Maybe the old man was short sighted or something and hadn’t noticed yet.

“I’d like to talk to you, if possible!” The old man continued to shout cheerfully. “Would you mind coming up for a bit?”

“Uhm.” They looked at each other again, not quite sure what to say.

“It’s relatively urgent!” The man above them added, sounding rather pressuring all of a sudden.

“What do we do?” Dwalin mouthed in the other’s direction but all that his unwilling partner did was shrug and then nod. Dwalin agreed; it was probably better than simply running away.

“We’ll be up in a moment, just one second!” he shouted back and signalled to the other man to help him stuff the corpse in the dumpster before they came upstairs.

They entered the house not shortly after. Dwalin couldn’t help but look in the other’s direction again – in the sudden light of the stairwell he could see that the man’s hair was brown, streaked lightly with grey and his eyes were a rather startling blue. Dwalin swallowed and offered him his hand, aware that he was being mustered as well.

“Dwalin,” he said, not giving away his surname and synonym he usually used when in the business. But he thought it might be good for them to know at least each other’s first names if they were going to potentially kill an innocent civilian. After a short moment of hesitation the man opposite him nodded and offered him his own hand.

“Thorin.” His hand shake was firm and warm and Dwalin found himself nodding at him in mutual respect. He usually preferred to work alone, but this time he couldn’t deny a tiny sigh of relief that there were two of them who were going to share the responsibility for whatever was going to happen.

“Nice to meet you.” Thorin added and Dwalin laughed – apparently British people remained quintessentially British even if they murdered others for a living.

“My pleasure,” he responded and, weirdly enough, meant it.

The two of them began walking up the stairs side by side, their steps in almost absurd synchronicity.

“So…what do we do with him?” Dwalin asked eventually after a few steps. Thorin shrugged in response.

“Not sure. Find out how much he’s seen first. And if he’s planning on calling the cops down on us.”

“We might have to kill him,” Dwalin pointed out what he thought was rather obvious.

“Possibly,” Thorin shrugged. “I’d rather avoid it though.”

However, he didn’t sound too concerned about the possibility of maybe having to kill an innocent bystander. Dwalin couldn’t quite decide whether that fact was turning him on or off.

It didn’t take them long to reach the floor that the old man’s flat was on – its door was open and the person they had seen standing at the window was waiting for them at the entrance. At a closer look he wasn’t quite as old as Dwalin thought he’d be – it was probably the amount of white hair that had given him that impression at first. The man’s facial expression seemed friendly enough, however – there was an air of openness around him and the sort of joviality you often found in elderly people.

“Come in, come in!” he shouted at them and for a moment Dwalin found himself reminded of a strange sort of Santa Claus, on holiday and with a large faible for pink as they saw when they entered, self-consciously cleaning their shoes on the little mat in front of the door. Dwalin hoped that there wasn’t any blood on his. With a quick glance he read the name tag on the doorbell before he entered – Dori Huldasson.

For a moment Dwalin thought his eyes were being assaulted. Most of Dori’s flat was held in some shade of pink or violet, down to the dark plum coloured carpet and the magenta tablecloth. Even Dori himself was dressed in a washed out pale pink bathrobe. Dwalin had learned rather quickly never to judge anyone on their appearance, but still, the image of ‘harmless old man’ was so strong it was practically a physical smell in the air.

“Please, sit down,” Dori gestured to the table whilst he busied himself with a few teacups.

Thorin looked at Dwalin and shrugged, taking a seat on the plushy cushions that were on the table chairs. He looked so out of place in his completely dark clothes that Dwalin almost laughed. He took the chair next to Dworin and allowed his gaze to roam around the room whilst Dori seemed intent on preparing tea.

He almost fell off his chair when he read the labels on Dori’s tea and spice rack. Next to rather common and normal things such as ‘paprika’, ‘pepper’ and Whittards’s best afternoon blend there were also a few small jars labelled with words like ‘arsenic’ and ‘nightshade’.

Dori had turned around in the meantime and put two cups in front of them, complete with little silver spoons and saucers with silver lining. Dwalin couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen saucers outside of restaurants and fancy office buildings. Dori had evidently followed Dwalin’s gaze for he gave him an apologetic smile.

“So that the younger members of the family don’t put their little hands where they don’t belong,” he explained. “I’ve always told them that the spice rack is off-limits but now that they can read the labels it has become easier.”

“Ah.” Dwalin forced a smile on his face although he’d had to admit that he was feeling slightly uncomfortable, as if something wasn’t quite right here.

“So, why did you want to talk to us?” Thorin inquired with perfect politeness, as if the old man hadn’t just watched them put a corpse or two into the dumpster below his window.

Dori only made a small tutting sound and motioned them to wait until they all had their perfectly brewed tea in front of them. Dwalin felt himself slowly losing the precious rest of his already diminished patience. Finally Dori sat down between them, taking a sip of his tea and nodding in satisfaction.

“Now we can talk.” He smiled almost sweetly at the assembled two killers next to him. “I saw you boys trying to get rid of some corpses down there earlier.”

Dori stated the fact with such ease as if he had just pointed out how nice the weather had been these past few days. He seemed to expect a reaction from them but the only thing Dwalin and Thorin were able to do was to stare, until Thorin cleared his throat. Dwalin’s own hand was creeping to the gun at his side, ready to put a quick end to the situation should it turn out that Dori was only stalling and had already called the police. If Thorin was about to question their host sharply there was no sign of that.

“Yes?” he simply inquired.

“Do you have any idea how _unhygienic_ that is? Not to say unprofessional?” Dori’s face was still that of a nice elderly man, so Dwalin didn’t even pick up his words properly at first.

“What?” he finally asked.

“I said it’s unprofessional. And all those germs. And it’ll likely block the trash shredders as well. Not at all a good method to get rid of bodies, if you ask me.” Dori sounded rather offended.

Thorin and Dwalin were at a loss for words.

“Now, you two clearly have some talent for making it here with your burden unobserved and so entirely _not_ covered in blood, but it needs a bit of refining, don’t you think?

“Are you offering to teach us how to get rid of bodies? _You_?” Dwalin hadn’t meant the last word to sound so incredulous, but somehow he hadn’t been able to hold it back.

“Of course. Or do you see anybody else inside these walls?” Dori replied indignantly.

“Are you sure you are not about to call the police, or maybe have already?” Thorin inquired. He still seemed to be unable to believe what they’d just heard.

“Of course I wouldn’t.” Dori frowned. “I am usually very clean, but you never know what they might uncover once they start snooping around my flat. I’d rather that they keep their noses out of here, thank you very much.”

“And what would they find if they’d…put some effort into it?” To Dwalin it felt like they were still dancing around the issue, but neither he nor Thorin apparently wanted to say out loud _So hey, are you a serial killer? Or kill people for money?_ Somehow that question still seemed a little…personal.

“You’re asking about my job?” Apparently Dori himself had no such scruples. “I used to kill people for a living, but decided to enjoy my retirement now apart from the occasional odd-job, if that’s what you’d like to know.”

Dwalin wondered what ‘the occasional odd-job’ was like but then decided that he likely didn’t really want to know. It was very probably _not_ as innocent as it sounded. He had already begun to suspect that the labels on Dori’s spice rack were also a lot more literal than he had first thought. Belatedly he wondered whether the tea Dori had given them was really as harmless as it seemed.

“Seems like we all are or were in the same profession then,” Thorin remarked dryly, confirming Dwalin’s suspicions from earlier.

“Why else did you think I called you up here?” Dori snorted. “I haven’t survived for so long in the business without _some_ intuition.”

It was almost incredible how his voice seemed to change on those sentences and for a moment there was ice-cold professionalism in his eyes. Suddenly it was very easy for Dwalin to believe everything Dori had told them so far. What he glimpsed in those seconds was the demeanour of a perfect killer and Dwalin wondered what his code name might have been and if he’d heard of it before.

“So…what do you propose is going to happen now?” Thorin asked.

“First of all, I propose that you hunting for some more trash to fill up that dumpster and hide those corpses from view,” Dori suggested rather pragmatically. “And then I can teach you what you _should_ have done with them instead.”

Thorin’s gaze met Dwalin’s and he gave a miniscule nod. The first part of Dori’s suggestion was something he would have done anyway had the old man not interrupted them. Then they both shrugged.

“Why not,” Dwalin said and stood up from his seat.  Thorin mirrored his movement with a nod in Dori’s direction.

“I’ll be waiting for you.” The smile that accompanied Dori’s words seemed perfectly normal, but neither Dwalin nor Thorin missed the hidden inflection in them. No matter what he might have thought of simply walking out and never coming back, that option wasn’t exactly on the table now anymore and he could feel it. Furthermore, he could imagine nicer things than having Dori’s wrath directed at oneself. _Much_ nicer things.

They both walked down the stairs and stepped outside. Dwalin was, surprisingly, the first to break the silence.

“Wow. That was certainly…unexpected.”

“Yeah,” Thorin agreed. “I gave up smoking a few years ago but I feel like I need a cigarette now.”

Dwalin snorted.

“Sounds like a normal reaction to what we just witnessed. Want some chewing gum instead?”

“You gave up smoking too?” Thorin raised his eyebrows, but took the offered chewing gum.

“Nah. Just addicted to chewing gum, really.” Dwalin grinned. Thorin chuckled in reply.

“Well, in my case it was the fact that my sister got pregnant. It was either that or not entering her house anymore. Didn’t want to make her or the little ones sick.”

“How nice.”

“Well.” Thorin shrugged. “That I kill people for a living doesn’t mean I can’t be nice, right?”

Dwalin just laughed in reply. For some reason it felt like he had known Thorin for months already – a strange familiarity that was only more pronounced as they both fell into step besides each other as they went to look for more trashbags to fill up the trashcan with.

“So you have family then?” Dwalin asked, to keep the conversation rolling. Thorin shrugged, but there was no mistaking the slight smile playing around his lips.

“Not sure I should answer this question, seeing the line of work that we’re in,” he told him. “But since I’ve already kind of told you…a sister, yes, and two nephews.”

The warmth and small warning in Thorin’s voice told Dwalin all that his words weren’t saying – he must have a tremendous love for them and he would go to great lengths to protect them from everything that the world was throwing at them.

“And you?” Thorin’s voice ripped him out of his thoughts. Dwalin wondered whether he should answer – as Thorin had insinuated rightly before, it could be a fatal weakness to expose anything personal to someone else working in their field, since that information could one day be used against them. On the other hand, Thorin had extended a metaphorical hand slightly in trust and Dwalin thought it deserved an honest answer.

“A brother,” he admitted. “No one else really, at the moment.”

Thorin nodded, accepting that little piece of trust that he had been given back to him. They walked in amiable silence until Dwalin pointed at a large pile of trashbags in a corner behind what was obviously a restaurant.

“Those should do,” he said. Thorin nodded in agreement and together they dragged the trashbags back down the alley and around the corner again before dumping them into the large dumpster. Dwalin noted that Dori was looking out of the window again, watching them. He felt like a pupil under his teacher’s scrutiny on the first day of school again. Snorting quietly to himself he shook his head; it should be ridiculous that someone could make him so nervous now.

For a split second after they were done, he seriously considered simply walking out now and could see the same flash of thought in Thorin’s eyes. Then, however, he remembered the cold steel behind Dori’s friendly façade and thought better. And, after all, someone of Dori’s age must’ve had plenty of experience that might even come in handy should he make true on his promise to share it with them.

He and Thorin shared another gaze before they both made for the door to the house again to see what would await them.

*

Dwalin guessed that, in a movie or TV series, the following weeks and months would probably be referred to as ‘training montage’ and shown in quick flashes of scenes with him, Thorin and Dori.

If there ever was a TV series that also included a lot of swearing, quite a bit of blood, some corpses and sudden random impulsive bursts of gay sex, that was.

The first time came even sooner than Dwalin's had anticipated. Of course he had noticed Thorin's gazes, the way he was unabashedly looking at him and appreciating his body at times when they both sat listening intently to Dori's latest lecture like good little students. And he couldn't deny that he had been doing the same - there was something about the way that Thorin's jaw curved and those blue eyes, so sharp with intelligence and cunning, were looking at him that made him want to run his thumb across Thorin's beard and discover exactly what kind of sounds he might be able to draw from the thin-lipped mouth.

What exactly it was that triggered the explosion between them in the end they couldn't quite say - Dori had given them a few lessons on fitting in with higher class society and they found themselves at a gala that evening, Thorin as a waiter and Dwalin as one of the guests. They had chosen the roles intentionally - Dwalin didn't know much about Thorin's upbringing but there was a certain way in which he carried himself that made it clear it had been at least upper middle class, an environment so at odds with Dwalin's own. Sometimes he still wondered how he the boy trying to ride the sheep on his parents' farm in the Highlands had  grown up to kill people for money.

Either way, according to Dori one had to be comfortable in all kinds of roles and situations if one wanted to remain at the top of their job. And in this case, that meant Dwalin was wearing a very expensive tuxedo, beard freshly trimmed and fingernails carefully washed and cut so he would look presentable. Thorin on the other hand, somehow managed to make even the waiter's uniform look more fetching than quite a few of the suits that Dwalin saw on the floor that night. Rather unfair, really. Dwalin had to remind himself to keep watching the target that Dori had designated as their faux target for the night instead of letting his eyes follow Thorin's form around the room. There always seemed to be a certain ease, almost elegance to Thorin's movements, like that of a large predatory cat and Dwalin found himself more than just a little attracted to it. He wondered what Dori would think if he knew about the thoughts in his mind and the dreams that seemed to follow him almost every night.

Dwalin slowly moved closer to the man that Dori had briefed them about earlier, demanding to know how they would handle an eventual assassination and report back to him. Of course, key to that was to find out as much as they possibly could about their hypothetical victim. Dwalin saw that Thorin was mirroring his own attempts, although in a way it seemed easier for him - as member of staff he was almost invisible to most people here and could thus move around almost unwatched. However, he couldn't stay long in one place like Dwalin could, since a waiter listening in on the guests' conversation was everything but inconspicuous.

Dwalin was almost there when someone ran into him, resulting in a shower of champagne all over his expensive rented suit. He cursed loudly - and even more so when he daw who it was that had entered his personal space so suddenly. Thorin had the audacity to _smirk_ at him even as he pulled out a cloth and began dabbing at Dwalin's shirt, a flood of very definitely fake apologies flowing over his lips. Dwalin felt anger rise inside him, knowing exactly why Thorin had done what he just did; he would have never thought that sabotaging each other would also be a big part of the challenges that Dori had set them, but apparently Thorin had no trouble going there at all.

He grabbed Thorin by the front of his shirt (a reaction that might even be considered normal amongst the kind of people they were surrounded by here) and pulled him close.

"What the fuck was that?" he hissed at him, eyes narrowing in anger. Thorin's smirked widened a little, apparently completely unperturbed by the situation.

"Just doing my job," he shrugged, as far as he was able to shrug in Dwalin's grip.

"And that includes pouring champagne all over me?!" Dwalin wanted to know. He tried to keep his voice down as to not attract too much attention, but of course a number of people had already assembled around them.

"Of course, Sir, of course, I will call a cleaning service right away..." Thorin said out loud, looking every inch the bashful and subservient waiter - apart from the not-at-all-frightened glimmer in his eyes. Dwalin felt a growl form deep inside his throat at the sight.

"You will be personally responsible to get me a new clean shirt _now_ ," he said sharply. Not waiting for Thorin's reply he began dragging him outside, past the surprised faces of the people around them.

Thorin began laughing breathlessly as soon as they were out of people's sight and earshot. Dwalin scowled at him, still not letting go of Thorin's shirt.

"A nice bit of acting," Thorin grinned. "Now, are you going to continue this posse, or..."

"I should get you thrown out of this place," Dwalin murmured angrily. "And have you pay for a new shirt as well."

Thorin laughed again, his hand closing around Dwalin's wrist and forcing him to let go of the fabric off Thorin's waiter uniform. Dwalin understood the meaning of the gesture well enough - out here Thorin would not keep on pretending.

"But you won't," Thorin told him, the smirk never leaving his face. Dwalin simply shrugged, leaving the answer open to interpretation.

"I'll repeat my earlier question - what the fuck was that about?" Dwalin demanded to know angrily.

"I thought I'd spice up the competition a bit." Thorin shrugged. The way he unabashedly appreciated the shape of Dwalin's chest under the wet shirt made it clear that he certainly wasn't regretting a single bit of it.

"Since when is this a competition?"

"Hasn't it always been? From the moment we met?" Thorin shot back. Dwalin shook his head, the anger in his chest still not sated.

"Arrogant prick," he mumbled. Thorin snorted in reply.

"Well. It worked to get you away from him, didn't it."

Maybe that was what made Dwalin so angry after all - that Thorin's tactic had actually worked. At least it hadn't brought Thorin any closer to his goal either.

"And now?" Dwalin asked almost casually. "Are we going to stand here and shout at each other until we're fed up with it?"

"I don't know about myself, but _you_ should take your shirt off," Thorin said matter-of-factly. He met Dwalin's gaze squarely and just gave a light shrug. "It's ruined in any case."

Dwalin stared at him for a moment longer before mutter another curse under his breath and taking off first the jacket and then the shirt underneath. He pretended not to notice the appreciative glance that Thorin let trail over him.

"At least tell me you've brought a replacement." Dwalin murmured angrily.

"Why would I?" Thorin grinned again, this time decidedly wickedly. "It's not like I'm not appreciating the view."

"You insolent fucking-"

Suddenly Thorin was close with the almost supernatural speed that was his own and that Dwalin had never been at the receiving end of so far. He had his arm across Dwalin's windpipe and him pressed up against the wall before Dwalin could even blink in surprise. It would have been easy for Dwalin to free himself of the position but he didn't, not now. Something in the depths of Thorin's eyes kept him from it. Dwalin hoped there weren't any security cameras close that would record the scene.

"Don't forget, we're outside the event now," Thorin hissed. "Out here we are equals."

Dwalin leaned forward until the pressure of Thorin's arm grew so strong that it began to hurt. He was well aware that Thorin could kill him at this very moment if he so wished to. There was something about that notion that made heat coil inside his stomach, especially when their faces were so close the he could see every single line etched into Thorin's skin, every single bead of sweat.

"Are you going to punish me for it then?" Dwalin asked him, feeling a smirk form around his lips. Something awakened in Thorin's eyes at the question, a wild hunger that seemed to set them blazing. Thorin leaned in even closer, so close that maybe only a finger's breadth was between them now.

"Should I?" he growled, the hunger in his eyes growing stronger.

They had never really talked about personal matters; in their profession it was vital to keep personal lives as far away from their jobs as possible. As such, Dwalin had no inkling in which if any direction Thorin's sexual appetites ran; but looking in his eyes at this moment he was quite sure he knew what Thorin wanted right _now_. And he was also fairly sure that his own desires were rather aligned with Thorin's. Instead of replying, he simply closed the distance between their lips, knowing perfectly well that Thorin could pull away should he want to.

There was no hesitation, however. If Thorin's eyes had been hungry, then his mouth was something else - there was little gentleness there, but even more demand instead. Dwalin was only too happy to give in and match Thorin's ferocity, not even noticing when the arm across his throat disappeared. There was blood as their lips smashed together, drawn by teeth and wild hunger; Dwalin could taste the salt of it on his tongue, mixed with the sweet taste that was Thorin's itself.

Thorin growled something under his breath and then he was holding Dwalin against the wall again, his knee pressing between his legs. Dwalin relished the slight hint of pain and responded by sliding his hand across Thorin's neck, not bothering to make his grip gentle. There was a breathless chuckle out of Thorin's throat and then he closed in again, uniting the heat of their bodies until they had seemingly turned into one burning entity.

Neither of them would give themselves away in their little unobserved corner but something so mundane as moaning, although Dwalin had to bite down on Thorin's thumb more than once to stifle it all. It was rough and quick, a quiet explosion of something that had been pent up inside them for weeks. There was little in  terms of romance between them at this moment - it was neither the right time, nor the right place, safe for that split second where their eyes locked and Dwalin caught a glimpse at what lay behind the icy blue walls of Thorin's gaze. For that one second he wished that they hadn't met  in this life, under those circumstances, but at some other time - who knew what kind of connection they might have had.

As it was, their interlude was over almost too fast. Messy, rough and intense, Dwalin still had Thorin's taste on his tongue when they both tried to bring some semblance of order back to their clothes. Dwalin held up his shirt, looking dismayed when he realised that nothing that had just happened had solved his problem of the champagne-stained shirt. His facial expression must have been rather comical since Thorin suddenly burst into laughter, the sounds so loud and unexpected that it made Dwalin smile as well. It was the first time he had truly seen Thorin laugh and it was no understatement to say that it almost seemed to transform him. Dwalin made a mental note to himself that he should try and make Thorin laugh a lot more often.


	9. Dark Mafia AU, PWP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Nadezhda! You mentioned being fascinate by the dark mafia AU but I am fairly sure this is not what you wanted...I went slightly offrails here, sorry! Hope you still get some enjoyment out of this. <3
> 
> As mentioned, this is set in the dark mafia AU. Basically a glorified PWP oops. Warning: this relationship is neither healthy NOR happy nor is it supposed to be. DON'T DO AT HOME KIDS. (Still all consensual though, I should probably add. If Dwalin had not come, Thorin would never look for him or kill him. It's his choice alone.)
> 
> Contains: Bloodplay, Knifeplay, Breathplay, Handjobs, Blowjobs and dirty talk. Rating for this probably goes towards R.

_Do you want to run from me?_ The words reverberate in Dwalin’s head, over and over and over again. He wishes he could shake their effect and the hold they have on his mind, but it is impossible. He cannot forget them – and neither can he forget the voice that spoke them, the gaze from those blue eyes that had been boring into his or the name of the man they all belong to.

Thorin Oakenshield.

Head of the mightiest mafia clan in the city, a man of ice-cold calculations and a firm hold on all the operations in town that are even vaguely illegal. A man of more might than even the mayor – and also, as Dwalin only recently found out, a man of quite impeccable physique and strength. He feels a tingle going through his body at the thought and curses his traitorous mind. He should not be thinking this. He should not be _feeling_ this. There is no happy ending to this story - that is something he knows too.

So of course he finds himself once more in the same abandoned warehouse that he has been to so many times before. Each time that he goes he swears to himself that it’s the last and yet it never is. 

“You are early.” As always, there is nobody else there when Thorin Oakenshield steps through the door and walks up to him, although Dwalin doesn’t doubt that the building is heavily secured by his people. He sniffs, and frowns.

“You smell of blood.”

“And you smell horny,” Thorin shrugs. The movement makes his coat shift slightly and Dwalin frowns again when he sees the blood splattered on Thorin’s sleeve and shoulder.

“Were you hurt?”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to worry about me now. It’s going to be hard enough to tell your bosses that you’re fucking the most important person of the underworld in this city twice a week without explaining that you’ve formed an emotional attachment as well, don’t you think?”

“You’ve heard my question.” Dwalin meets Thorin’s ice blue gaze without flinching. Thorin simply snorts and takes off his cloak.

“Nothing but a scratch.”

Dwalin can see more of the blood now, not only the splatters but also the thin line of it running across Thorin’s shoulder. He hates it that this sight makes him feel something. He hates it that this feeling contains worry, but not only. He hates it that the thought of blood on Thorin’s pale skin is already making him hard.

 

Thorin smirks when he looks at him. It’s almost terrifying how he seems to be able to read Dwalin’s thoughts. Almost. Because Dwalin finds that he can do the same with him and he also knows it frightens Thorin more than anything else. Thorin is someone who is used to being in total control, even of his own thoughts.

“Let me see,” Dwalin says and Thorin complies, a thin smile playing around his lips. Every sentence, every movement between them is like a studied dance. Not a single step that doesn’t have a programmed response. Thorin’s movements are slow, and deliberately so, teasing Dwalin with the grace of a wolf.

Dwalin growls. Here is something that he has learned previously, however – there will be no damage to Thorin’s clothes. At least not the outer layers. It is one of the few things Thorin is relentlessly insistent about in his own deadly way. Therefore he has to wait, has to devour with his eyes what he already wants to uncover with his own fingers.

His right hand opens and closes. Another smile flickers over Thorin’s face when he sees it.

Finally the coat, jacket and shirt are off and Dwalin can see the shallow cut the stretches across Thorin’s shoulder. Dwalin takes another step closer and reaches out with his hand, fingers brushing over the fresh cut that is oozing blood where the shirt has ripped off the encrusted remnants of the bleeding. Thorin doesn’t move; others would have shivered at the touch of Dwalin’s cold fingers, but he simply stands and watches, gaze not leaving Dwain’s face. Sometimes, Dwalin thinks that a grave in the glacier of Thorin’s blue eyes would be a fitting end for him.

He presses down harder and finally Thorin shows a reaction, his lips parting slightly as he lifts his hand and lets his fingernails dig into Dwalin’s bare scalp. Dwalin raises his own fingers and closes his eyes as he tastes Thorin’s blood on them. He relishes the salty taste.

Thorin pulls him close with a wordless little growl, his lips crashing into Dwalin’s. The tangy taste of blood is mixing with that of their bodies. Dwalin buries a gasp inside his stomach when Thorin begins to bite his lip; it is just the right amount of pain to excite him and spurn him on. Their chests are heaving when they separate again.

“You are wearing too many clothes still,” Thorin smirks as he wipes the blood from his lips. Dwalin snorts and begins taking off his uniform and unbuttoning his shirt. He always comes in police uniform, just like Thorin is always wearing one of his expensive official suits. He has never really been one to analyse his feelings too closely – but now Dwalin is wondering whether that is because their official clothes just hammer in the thrill of doing something that they could both get killed or at least go to prison for if they were ever discovered.  

“What would you do if any of your associates ever found out?” Dwalin asks.

“What, that I’m literally fucking the police?” Thorin stretches lazily, well aware of the effect that the play of his muscles under his skin has on Dwalin. Dwalin just grunts.

“I would probably have to kill them,” Thorin shrugs. “Or find a very good reason for them to get into some kind of _accident_.”

He says it the same that he would talk about having to buy some milk for breakfast on the way home.

“And if they would try to use me against you?” Dwalin doesn’t stop in his movements to undress, but he can feel the time stopping for a second and then lurching forward again.

“I would kill them.” Thorin still sounds rather nonplussed, even when he adds as if on an afterthought: “Or you.”

“How charming,” Dwalin can’t help but murmur. It is the first time that he has let himself slip a little, shown a not-so-serious side. Thorin simply smirks. Dwalin has probably imagined it, but he could have sworn that beforehand Thorin’s lips turned into the tiniest of smiles.

“You’ve been in a fight.” Thorin stands up when Dwalin has finished undressing. He puts his fingers on where a set of bruises are littering Dwalin’s ribs, pressing only slightly.

“I have,” Dwalin shrugs.

“Did you kill them?” Thorin inquires. His tone sounds disinterested but Dwalin can feel the anticipation beneath. He snorts.

“No. We aren’t like you. Or the police in the US. We don’t just go around killing people. They’re in a holding cell now to sleep off their intoxication.”

“Shame. And here I thought I’d taught you something.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Never said otherwise.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

Dwalin simply growls under his breath. What a fucking wiseass. He grabs Thorin’s wrist and pushes him backwards until he is pressed against a column.

“Then let’s get to it,” he hisses. Thorin just laughs, but all of a sudden he is kissing him again, rough and violent. Dwalin’s hands tighten around Thorin’s wrist, so strongly that he knows it must hurt, but it only makes Thorin arch his body against his. A small folding knife appears in Dwalin’s hand and comes to rest at Thorin’s cheek, the touch of cold steel making Thorin open his eyes.

“Are you thinking of leaving your mark where everyone can see?” The gaze from his eyes is cold and unafraid as he leans into the blade’s bite. There is more than one scar on his body already from their ‘meetings’. And so are there on Dwalin’s.

“Maybe I will, this time,” Dwalin whispers. The tip of the knife draws a single drop of blood from Thorin’s cheek and Dwalin can see his pupils dilating. With a little growl Thorin leans forwards, not caring about the knife scraping his cheek and nicking his ear and bites down, hard, on Dwalin’s lips so that blood fills their mouths again. Sensations flood his mind and Dwalin clenches his fingers around Thorin’s wrist even more tightly, feeling the echo of a low groan from Thorin in his own throat.

“You are presuming too much, _policeman_ ,” Thorin hisses all of a sudden and with a sudden flexing of his muscles he manages to free himself from Dwalin’s grip and grab the knife, turning them and slamming Dwalin against the column so hard he sees stars and tastes blood for a moment.

“Oh, you getting angry now?” Dwalin sneers. Thorin growls and puts the knife to Dwalin’s throat, drawing it down to his chest without leaving a trace – for now.

“I could kill you with no consequence,” he whispers, as he leans forward and bites Dwalin’s ear. “None.”

“But you never would.” He doesn’t know how he knows, but as soon as the words leave his lips, Dwalin is sure that they are the truth.

Thorin laughs, a dangerous, low laugh and the tip of the blade digs into Dwalin’s skin, right above his heart. The prick sends a jolt through Dwalin’s body and he reaches down to grab Thorin’s cock through the fabric of his pants. There is another hiss from Thorin, especially when Dwalin dig’s in his fingernails, in the same movement that he tries to undo Thorin’s suitpants. Why does he have bloody buttons and not a zipper?

“You’re bold.” Thorin murmurs, even as his body arches against Dwalin’s.

“You would despise everything else,” Dwalin growls back. Thorins gasps when Dwalin has finally undone the buttons and his fingers find access. The knife in Thorin’s hands begins to tremble just slightly when Dwalin teases him with slow, careful strokes and the occasional scratch with his fingernails. He begins to lean forward, the knife digging into Dwalin’s skin as he draws a slow, bloody line across his chest. Dwalin pants, hating how his body responds to the pain with arousal. For some reason, whatever Thorin does to him in these sessions, the thrill of it always overcomes the pain. The sight of his own blood on Thorin’s fingers does nothing but spur him on. He isn’t sure he could stop if he wanted to – but strangely enough, he _is_ sure that Thorin would stop if he told him to, despite his pretense of doing otherwise.

There is a certain kind of worship in the violence between them. Dwalin slowly begins to increase the rhythm of the strokes, at the same time that his fingers smear his own blood over Thorin’s chest. He goes down slowly, Thorin’s fingernails and the knife drawing groves into his skin. Finally his mouth closes around Thorin’s cock and he can feel the heat radiating from the man in front of him. Thorin’s nails dig into his scalp and he shudders as Dwalin begins to move his mouth with the same skill his fingers moved before.

“Fuck.” The word is panted out between harsh breaths from Thorin, as he struggles to hold himself together and yet cannot do so. Dwalin smirks and begins using his tongue, causing a low moan to rise up from Thorin’s throat. Something tells him that Thorin never allows himself to lose control so publicly.

There is no pause when release finally comes from Thorin, just a single moment of breathlessness as they both wonder what will come next. There is a glimmer of something else in the freezing blue of Thorin’s eyes when Dwalin comes up and they kiss, a split second of something different apart from hunger. Then Thorin pushes him back against the column again, pointing the knife squarely at Dwalin.

“You want more?” Dwalin sneers and wipes his mouth. Thorin laughs roughly, even when Dwalin comes forwards and snatches the knife from his hands.

“What I want is _you_.” Thorin sounds slightly breathless. “I want your blood on my fingers and your moans in my ear. I want your entire being writhing underneath me.”

“Then you need to come and get it,” Dwalin teases. Thorin lunges himself at him. They are fighting now, using their fists as much as the knife in Thorin’s hand and the one that Dwalin pulls out of the back of his pants as replacement. Blood and sweat are staining the ground and neither of them is quite sure whether they are fighting to the death or for a good fuck. In the end, Dwalin presumes, it’s probably both. There is nothing about their fight that does not arouse him – every nick of Thorin’s knife, every triumphant moment of using his own, every drop of sweat and shout that his muscles send through him, they all flow together into one giant ball of heat that seems to slowly grown between his legs. It is no surprise when Thorin finally manages to bring him down, straddling him on the floor between his knees.

Thorin leans forwards and begins to kiss Dwalin’s chest, quickly moving over to his nipples. Dwalin’s body begins to arch from the floor when Thorin’s teeth close around the sensitive skin there. His fingers dig into Thorin’s shoulder and back, deliberately pressing down where the fresh wound is. Some of his fingers tangle around Thorin’s hair and he yanks at it, especially when Thorin’s tongue begins playing with his nipples, the same time as his lips pull at the piercing through it. Thorin knows him far too well by now and that knowledge is dangerous, but the wild ecstasy running through Dwalin seems to justify every decision he has ever made to return again and again to these meetings.

Suddenly the knife is in Thorin’s hand again and he uses its tip to undo the zipper of Dwalin’s pants bit by bit. Thorin’s fingernails scrape along the shaft of his penis as they follow the knife and Dwalin can no longer suppress a groan, as much as he wants to. Thorin smirks in satisfaction.

“I love the sounds that you make,” he grins as his fingers close around Dwalin’s penis at the same place that Dwalin has teased him before. “Let me hear them again…”

“Fuck you,” Dwalin pants, the words pressed out beneath another groan. Thorin just laughs, even when Dwalin’s fingernails dig into his head and jerk at his hair so that it leaves its careful ties. One of Dwalin’s hands closes around Thorin’s throat and begins to squeeze, in the same rhythm that Thorin is stroking his erection. Thorin says nothing, does not struggle, but only locks his gaze with Dwalin when the hand around his throat tightens again. Dwalin doesn’t even care that he will probably leave bruises the next day.

Dwalin’s hands give one last strong squeeze when he comes, spilling over Thorin’s hands and Thorin laughs when his throat is released, a scratchy, breathy laugh but one nonetheless.

“I could fuck you so hard that you would promise me all that I ever wanted,” he whispers. “I could make you beg for me to hurt you in ways that you haven’t even imagined yet.”

Dwalin hates what the words do to his body, the way the muscles in his lower stomach spasm and heat is pooling between his legs.

“There is no taking without giving,” he hisses and, very deliberately, runs his fingernails down Thorin’s cock and then up his stomach where they dig into the sensitive skin around his nipple. The desire to both hurt and satisfy the man above him is almost overwhelming.

“I would never presume there to be,” Thorin says and licks his lips. The motion alone makes something inside Dwalin give way. “In fact, I would be rather disappointed if that was the case.”

A growl rises up Dwalin’s throat and he stretches out his hands as if he wants to cut off Thorin’s breath again. Instead his thumb traces across Thorin’s jaw in a movement that could almost be considered caressing before he yanks at Thorin’s hair again to make him come downwards for another kiss. For a second the kiss is soft, before it grows back into their usual roughness between them. Dwalin guesses he has probably imagined it, but just for a split second he thinks he has seen a tinge of despair in Thorin’s eyes.

Then Thorin is off him again, running his hand through his hair and both knives lying forgotten on the floor.

“Done already?” Dwalin scoffs. Thorin snorts and throws him a baby wipe. For a second the sight of the town’s most dangerous mafia chief, all bloody and with his pants down and holding a box of baby wipes is utterly comic to Dwalin.

“I have obligations to fulfil. And no condoms,” Thorin shrugs. Dwalin can’t help but laugh. This man is willing to do the vilest of things, engage in blood play and a whole other round of things that make Dwalin shudder in ecstasy at the memory but he will always insist on condoms should they engage in anal sex. It is fascinating really, but at the same time Dwalin is somehow glad. As if this is the last refuge of humanity left in Thorin that he will always uphold.

Thorin holds out a plastic bag for Dwalin to dump the used baby wipe into and Dwalin complies. Both of them get dressed without any further words, although the silence is not an uncomfortable one. Dwalin is glad to see that just like Thorin, no outer part of his uniform got truly damaged – once he walks out of here it will be as if nothing ever happened, apart from the lingering heat in his groin.

Sometimes he wakes up from dreams where things are different, another world perhaps where neither of them is as they are. Where the thing between them is more than a desperate shout into the void of the universe. Thorin looks at him and Dwalin wonders if he thinks the same, but the thought is swept aside the moment that Dwalin sees the cut on Thorin’s shoulder again.

Not here.

Not in this world.

“Again in three days?” Thorin asks him and Dwalin nods. He isn’t on call then; some of his colleagues have already remarked on how he has probably gotten himself a secret lover, giving how he can’t take every single shift any more. If only they knew.

“I will see you then,” he tells Thorin.

Dwalin watches as Thorin leaves the building, waiting for exactly fifteen minutes until making his own exit. They can never be seen together.

Outside there is no trace that anybody but him was here. He stares up into the cloudless sky with its mercilessly burning sun until his eyes hurt.


End file.
